


I'm Sure Your Plan is Sound

by Radar1388



Category: Hazbin Hotel (Web Series)
Genre: Asexual, Asexual Relationship, Canon-Typical Violence, Drama, Drama & Romance, Eventual Romance, F/M, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Protective Alastor (Hazbin Hotel), Romance, Swearing, disowned Charlie, fluff at times
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-24
Updated: 2021-01-31
Packaged: 2021-03-05 05:14:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 30
Words: 138,020
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25489069
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Radar1388/pseuds/Radar1388
Summary: Charlie hadn't been able to get in contact with her parents since opening the Hotel. After watching a devastating news interview, she now understands why. How does one cope without the support of their own parents? How does one explain to their hotel staff that they're no longer getting support from the royal family and why?Eventual asexual romance between Charlie and Alastor.
Relationships: Alastor & Charlie Magne, Alastor/Charlie Magne
Comments: 203
Kudos: 704





	1. The New Normal

**Author's Note:**

> I do something called 'One-Word One-Shots', meaning if you give me a word, I'll write a chapter about that word. Given how new Hazbin Hotel still is, most things in the story will be personal head-cannons, mixed with what I've seen in Vivziepop's videos as well as some of the live stream research I've done. But like I said, this will mostly be head-cannons.
> 
> Constructive criticism is welcome.

She hadn't heard from her parents since opening the Hotel. She called, and had left more messages than she could count. She knew her mom listened to her voicemails, and there had been a time where her mom occasionally called her back. However, it had been nearly a month since opening the Hotel, and not a word from either of them.

It had become horribly normal. Now she was simply leaving voicemails to her parents out of habit, not expecting a reply in return. They were more than likely busy. Their workload was normally heftier during the time around The Cleanse each year. They often supervised certain cleanup duties, observed who survived, and did interviews with local reporters and news stations to provide everyone in Hell an update.

She should've been upset that her parents seemed to just drop off the face of Hell without so much as a word. Instead, she felt only understanding, knowing how busy they must currently be. Their work didn't normally ease until a few solid weeks after The Cleanse, so she really had no grounds to be even remotely angry. In fact, she felt hopeful.

Charlie picked up her phone and dialed her mom's number, an enthusiastic smile spread over her face. "Hey, mom," she said. "I was watching the news yesterday and they advertised that you and dad would be on TV tomorrow to talk about the recent Cleanse." As she talked she paced her grand bedroom until stopping at the large stained glass window overlooking the Hotel's area of Pentagram City.

"And I was wondering…" She trailed off carefully, not wanting to sound overly eager or pushy. "Since it's about that, would you be able to talk about the Hotel? We, um…Well, we don't necessarily have any sinners checked in yet – I mean, we do have one, and he did show…sort-of progress?"

She shook her head rapidly, not wanting to get into talking about Angel's antics. It would only make her parents doubt her more. But in all honesty, they more than likely saw the turf war on the news, so... "Anyway, we have a pretty great staff here now. It's not just me and Vaggie anymore. Everyone that works here now is…"

Where to begin?

Her own girlfriend supports her, but clearly doubts her.

A porn star is getting a free place to stay.

An adorable but slightly creepy girl neurotically cleans.

A drunkard is only in it for the free alcohol that magically appears out of nowhere.

A chaotic ex-serial killer is the one who supplied the alcohol.

Oh, and said chaotic ex-serial killer became co-owner of the Hotel within a day. All for entertainment purposes.

She rubbed her forehead with her fingertips, unsure of how to continue. "Everyone that works here now…seems to be in it for the long haul." Yes, that wasn't a bad answer. "And I'm thankful to have their…support. So, could you please mention the Hotel during your interview? If only to let the public know that we're fully staffed." She sat on her bed with a sigh. "Who knows? Maybe that'd be enough of a motivation for sinners to-"

At that moment, there was a beep, and then the line disconnected, signaling that the voicemail box was probably full. Dropping her phone on the bed, she flopped backwards onto the comforter with an even heavier sigh.

Charlie knew that her parents wouldn't have picked up. She knew it would go straight to voicemail. What she did not know was how fast her confidence would dissipate.

She went into that phone message with enthusiasm and with a goal in mind. She accomplished said goal, but it ended with rapidly decreasing positivity at having to explain certain things. It's not that she didn't have faith in the Hotel and those that now worked alongside her. But explaining everyone's motivations in her head and then nearly saying them out loud drastically lowered her confidence in what she was trying to convey in her phone call.

Nevertheless, she gave a message to her parents. She hoped they got it and would relay it to the news station that would be interviewing them.

\-------

The interview, as with most royal big shots in Hell, was meant to be short and sweet so as not to waste anyone's time. Tom Trench was the one asking the professional yet cynical questions this year, as Katie Killjoy normally couldn't be bothered with royals.

"So, we've interviewed other lords of Hell this week," Tom continued on with a chuckle in his muffled voice. "They're all having a Hell of a time this year, pun intended. Tell us about how the recent Cleanse has affected you two. Have the turf wars been keeping you up night?"

With a graceful finger, the tall lady imperiously flicked some of her golden hair away from her face. "Not for a few weeks now," she answered neutrally. "Everything seems to have died down."

"There definitely were more of them this year," the equally elegant man sitting next to her added. "The angels must have left Hell thinking they did fine work this time around. Only to have given us even more of a headache than we anticipated."

The King smoothed his hand over the white sleeve of his suit, a casual gesture that almost bordered on boredom. "But…" He continued. "The clean-up has been taken care of, all demons have returned to business as usual, and some have now even claimed new territory."

"All of those destroyed souls were a loss," the Queen shrugged. "But it has opened up new opportunities for the other residents."

"So, all in all," Tom quipped. "Coulda been worse!"

"Most definitely," the King nodded.

"Speaking of worse opportunities," Tom said, gas mask stretching as if to convey a smirk. "With the Cleanse now out of the way, how do you think your daughter's Hotel is doing?"

The King quirked his head slightly. "Our daughter."

"I imagine everyone's busy with all the aftermath," Tom continued. "I know I wouldn't have the time nor an ounce of energy to even stop in. Let alone consider."

The King and Queen exchanged odd glances. Not confused, not angry, not even slightly perturbed. Just odd.

"There seems to be a miscommunication here," the Queen said slowly, as if speaking to an amusing toddler. "We don't have a daughter."

For the first time during the interview, Tom Trench stalled. He wordlessly glanced back and forth between the royal highnesses, totally unsure of how to respond to that. And also not quite sure of the state of their sanity.

"Don't look at us like that, Trench," the King frowned. "You, as well as everyone else, know that nearly all demons are sterile. And, well, with me being a fallen angel…"

When the King didn't elaborate on that, Tom's eyebrow lifted, beyond confused about _everything_. Not even knowing where to start, he said, "And…that complicates things?"

Instead of responding directly to that, the King made a dismissive gesture. "I say it's about time we return to our duties," he said imperiously. "Don't you think, my darling?"

"I agree," she said as she straightened herself.

Tom found himself once again glancing so quickly between them that he felt like he was having a stroke. "…What just happened here," he asked, deadpanned.

The King stood up, and stared Trench right in the eyes, daring him to ask further. Tom was a very flippant individual. He often didn't care what came out of his mouth, and he often didn't care how casual it may sound. However, despite Killjoy abusing him over seemingly idiotic things, he wasn't stupid.

So, even though the interview took a turn that he in no way could've predicted, the smirk returned to his face. Oh, the ratings they would get from just these last few minutes alone…

Clearing his throat, Tom turned his attention to the camera. "Well, folks, that was our very own Queen Lilith and King Lucifer! What a regal and _insightful_ interview that wa-"

His words were cut short as the television went black.

The remote slipped from her grasp, her whole body going numb and slack at the same time. Her hand stayed in the air, as if still grasping a remote, one that would rewind everything.

There were no words in her throat, though her jaw twitched. What she wanted to say, she had no idea. No fucking clue. No fucking idea how to even react.

Mechanically, and smoothly, she pushed away from her bed. She opened her door and let it slam carelessly closed as she set off down the hallway. She had no destination in mind, only determined to go deeper and deeper into the recesses of the Hotel, until she found places that not even Niffty had combed over yet. She wanted to get as far away from her bedroom, her cell phone, her TV, _everything_ as much as possible.

Vaggie, and at some point even Angel, were looking for her to let her know dinner was ready. They concluded that she must've gone out, as there was absolutely no sign of her anywhere.

If they had looked harder, they would've noticed the droplets of sorrow that were now burning tiny holes in the floor of the doorway of Charlie's bedroom. They hadn't noticed these when they went looking for her, but somebody else had.

He had been passing by her bedroom by coincidence, and was about to knock on her door to let her know about dinner when he saw the tearstains that had scorched the carpet and wood.

He didn't pursue her. The ever-present smile on his face simply shifted into an elegant blend of that and an introspective scowl. And with that, he was on his way to the kitchen.

He had cooked tonight, as he did almost every night. Most of them, Charlie especially, nearly salivated over his cooking. With that thought in mind, before serving the broth in to the bowls, he lifted the lid off the pot. He waved his hand once over it.

The steam was hot before, but the intensity grew until it engulfed the whole kitchen with its savory aroma. Practically bursting through the walls, the scent weaved its way through the ducts and vents of the Hotel.

He began humming a tune as he took hold of a ladle. One after the other, in absolutely no rush, he poured a serving into each bowl for the Hotel's residents. With a snap of his fingers the bowls in front of him disappeared to reappear in the dining room.

Save for one.

He waved his hand over this particular bowl, making it so that it would remain nice and hot until eaten. It would also continue to do the job the pot had done, creating an enticing hunger-inducing scent that wafted through the entire building.

Well, not the entire building. The scent had a destination in mind. To find whoever was going to eat out of said bowl, and persuade them to join them for dinner.

He cleaned his claw-like hands off on a rag as he continued to hum. He exited the kitchen, leaving the remaining bowl alone knowing full well that slight bit of voodoo had done its job. It was now simply a waiting game.

\-------

Despite how grandiose and alluringly haunting the Hotel was, there were plenty places that were as abysmal and normal as any other place. For example, a storage room.

The Hotel had been abandoned for many decades before Charlie found it and all but begged her parents to let her utilize it. There were plenty of empty places throughout due to lack of use, even though there were residents now.

The storage room in the west side of the Hotel was one of those places. This part of the Hotel was almost completely void of life. No rooms were being lived in, none of the studies and common areas were being maintained, and the storage rooms had nothing to store in them.

As of right now, it was perfect for Charlie.

She sat slumped in the very back. She had tucked herself in between two empty crates, and she was determined to stay there for a very long time. Determined to all but disappear. After all, she technically didn't even exist anyway.

Her nails dug sharply into her pant legs as he hugged herself impossibly tighter. She pressed her aching eyes to her knees with such force they almost went through the sockets. Even as she sobbed, even as her tears fizzled through her clothes, no sound came out of her mouth.

She had always worn her emotions on her sleeve, had always made it involuntarily obvious to others when she was distressed or other. Now? She didn't want anything to do with anyone. She didn't want company, she didn't want to be comforted, and – just like every single other demon Hell – she didn't want to be weak.

Whether she didn't want to appear weak to others or to herself, she wasn't sure. Either or, she hid herself away, silently, without disrupting anyone. She shivered at the realization of how easy it was to avoid them all like that, how easy it was to hide herself away. That's what her parents seemed to want anyway-

She put those thoughts to a halt by making an unearthly growling noise in the back of her throat, the first noise she'd made in hours. She let her head fall backwards, making an echo as it connected with a metal vent. The echo and soft breeze that trickled through the vent was hardly enough to distract her. She couldn't run away from or ignore what had just happened.

Her parents disowned her. On live TV. For everyone in Hell to see and hear. No one would come to the Hotel now.

She straightened up so fast her spine cracked. The amount of mental scolding she gave herself was downright extraordinary. That's what she was thinking about? That's what she was prioritizing?! This Hotel?!

She should be trying to contact her parents. To make amends with –

No!

There was nothing to talk about. Nothing to make this right.

She should be contacting her parents to give them a piece of her mind like any other self-respecting demon! She should be stomping her way over to her parents' mansion and raining down Hell on them like the demon she was!

Her body only slackened, and she let her head fall back again. She stared up at the ceiling as more tears slipped. "I was never that good at being a demon anyway," she whispered to herself. She squeezed her eyes shut as another silent sob jolted her body. "I guess that's why my parents…" She trailed off with a bitter snort.

She let the tears fall, she let a couple sobs bubble up from her throat, she let her mind and body be taken over by a hopelessness and an invalidation she never thought was possible to feel. The only solace was the silence of this part of the Hotel, and the breeze from the vent.

For almost the entire duration she was there, the breeze coming in was the decaying, midnight air of the city. It didn't clear her head any, and it didn't provide adequate distraction, but it was a distraction nonetheless. Even more so when the air changed.

Instead of cool and light, it was now heavy and warm. Her stomach, which had been empty for hours now, growled stubbornly when the unmistakable scent of soup broth engulfed her. She took her arms from her legs to wrap them around her stomach, as if that would quell it.

She was missing dinnertime. Given Alastor's culinary talents, this quickly became one of her favorite times of the day. Knowing Alastor – and she's only known him for approximately two weeks now – the soup she could so clearly smell was more than likely delicious.

She refused to leave her hiding spot. She couldn't let any of them see her like this, knowing full well that they all probably watched the same news cast. She couldn't bear to face them.

She also couldn't bear to be cheered up or comforted.

Her friends provided kindness and comfort in their own…special ways.

With Angel, it was awkward silence.

With Husk, it was a bar and liquor to drink your worries.

With Niffty, it was rapid-fire well-meaning questions.

With Alastor, it was brutal honesty and a smile.

With Vaggie, it was vague conversation mixed with always-helpful advice.

She didn't want to be around any positivity, or anyone at all for that matter. All she wanted to do was wallow until it all passed. Including the aroma. Give it a bit, and that gorgeous smell would go away eventually.

Only…It didn't. It only continued to get stronger, until it practically flooded every one of her senses. It was so overwhelming that she quickly stood up and started to move away from the vent, as if that would help.

Only…It didn't. It followed her. Her stomach was practically roaring by this point.

"Okay, fine," she snapped loudly at the empty room. Crossing her arms petulantly over her chest, she exited into the hallway, her eyes squinting at the sudden light after being in the dark for so long.

She had a destination now. This time, the kitchen. Grab some soup, and then take it back to the storage room. Get in, get out. Easy enough. Her goal was to stuff her face, get rid of the annoying clawing her stomach was giving her, and _hell_ maybe even nap against the storage crates. Sleep off the rest of this horrible goddamn day. Perhaps she should even consider swiping from Husk's stash. What must it be like to drink until you can't feel anything?

Charlie shook her head quickly. Stealing? Drinking? Never before had she ever had the urge to even think of doing either. For one horribly bitter moment, she thought about how her parents would be proud of her.

"Not like that matters now," she brokenly whispered through clenched teeth.

By this point, her feet and nose betrayed her. She had been so distracted by her own thoughts, and had unwittingly let herself follow the savory scent all the way to the common area where they usually sat and ate meals.

"There you are," a voice suddenly spoke up, making Charlie jump as the realization of where she now was hit her. Vaggie set her bowl down and jumped out of her seat to take her hand. "We were wondering where you were," she said with a grin as she pulled Charlie to sit beside her. "What happened to you?"

Charlie had to work hard to clear her throat, as it felt like it was filled with gravel. "Oh, nowhere special," she shrugged halfheartedly. "Just a walk."

Vaggie shook her head as she stared down. "No, I mean your clothes. What happened to them?"

She didn't have to look at her pants to know that she was talking about the burn marks from her tears. "L-like I said," she stammered. "Just a walk. Um…Almost ran right into two other demons duking it out. They threw some fire around and well…" She gestured vaguely at her pants as she glanced apprehensively at everyone.

They all had eyes on her, but with only mild interest. Then, most of them shrugged and they all went back to eating. Alastor was the only one who hadn't looked at her, simply keeping his eyes on the book in his hand while he took sips of broth.

"You sure that's all," Vaggie asked, taking both of her hands and looking her in the eyes. She didn't miss anything, she knew something was wrong. Very wrong.

Charlie gave her a small smile and squeezed her hands before letting them go. "That's all," she lied, and Vaggie knew this. Charlie knew that Vaggie knew this. However, she let the matter drop…For now. Charlie knew this would come up again later, even if Vaggie wasn't a hundred percent sure what was going on.

Charlie didn't think anyone knew. As she glanced around again, she once again took note that no one was hounding her with questions, no one was bringing up or mocking about the news cast. Even Niffty wasn't being curious. Everyone was too engrossed in the food and the cozy silence.

No one except her had seen what her parents had said.

A short breath, almost a laugh, escaped her. Of course no one would. Nearly every demon in Hell had no interest in the news networks, especially when it came to royals giving speeches or being involved in interviews. No one gave two shits about such formalities. The only reason why people watched Charlie sing about the Hotel was because that cannibal cooking show had been cancelled, there was nothing else to watch, and everyone wanted something to laugh at.

Oh, she knew that at least some demons probably saw the interview with her parents. And she knew that those demons were most likely laughing it up. Her friends weren't, though, and she felt like she could breath. For now at least, she could pretend it never even happened.

Exhaling as calmly as possibly, she finally said, "So…Did you guys save enough for me?"

After taking a sip, Vaggie opened her mouth to reply, but was cut off by a loud, echoing snapping of fingers. In a cloud of steam, a fresh bowl of piping soup appeared on the coffee table in front of Charlie.

Angel snorted. "Dramatic much, Al."

"Yeah," Vaggie grunted, waving her hand through the area in an effort swipe away the excess steam. "Real theatrical."

"Why, thank you, Vagatha, Angel," Alastor responded jovially, making Vaggie slap a hand to her forehead. Alastor set his book aside briefly to now fully look at Charlie. "There's plenty to go around. Even for seconds!"

"Ooh, hell yeah," Angel said as he sprang to his feet with a now empty bowl. "You read my mind." With that, he took off for the kitchen.

"Hey, will you get me some more, too," Vaggie called after him, only to receive no reply in return. With an exasperated groan, she stood up. "How much you wanna bet he did hear me, but he's ignoring me?"

Charlie gave her a short chuckle. Vaggie smiled at that, but it was short lived. She frowned as she glanced at Charlie's pants again.

"Really," Charlie tried again to put her at ease. "I'm fine."

Of course, she wasn't convinced, shaking her head with a deep frown as she followed Angel to the kitchen.

"So, how is it?" 

Charlie jumped at the sudden exuberant voice. Without her noticing, Alastor was now sitting right next to her, where Vaggie had been. "Um, what," she asked lamely.

"The soup," he pointed to the bowl. "Is to your liking?"

"Oh, right," she replied equally lamely. She brought the bowl to her lips, the intention to take an experimental sip. By the time she took the bowl away, it was already half empty. "Oh, my god," she hummed, grinning at him. "This is amazing!" She greedily brought the bowl back to her mouth.

"Not my best work, mind," he shrugged casually, brushing his finger along the rim of his bowl. "I do prefer stews over simple soup-"

"No, seriously, Al," she said quickly. She knew he wasn't truly being humble, that he was just making conversation, but she still felt very much compelled to compliment. "This is great!" She swallowed that last of it, disappointed that she could now see the bottom.

"Glad you enjoy it!" With another snap of his fingers, the bowl filled once more, much to her delight. He leaned back against the couch.

"Hey," Husk hollered from his side of the room, waving his empty bowl in the air. "Why don'tcha do that trick with me?"

"Or with me," Angel griped as he came back in, with a full bowl that was practically overflowing. "You telling me I had to walk all the way to the kitchen when you coulda just done that?" When he plopped down onto his seat, some of the soup dripped onto the carpet.

"Hey, watch out," Niffty suddenly snapped. "I just dry-cleaned! You need to clean that up! Oh, I'm sorry, that was loud of me!"

Angel rolled his eyes slightly. "Yeah, yeah, just keep eating, kid…Hang on, how did you even get your little hands on dry-cleaning equipment? Since when does Hell have something like that?"

Niffty only smirked and chuckled slightly at that before going back to eating. But she still eyed the now-stained carpet with malice.

"Uh, excuse me," Vaggie asked scathingly as she returned.

Alastor's smirk widened as Vaggie stared him down. She felt threatened that he was in the spot she previously was, right next to Charlie, so close he was nearly brushing against her. This only amused Alastor. It was far too easy to bait her, and far too fun.

"If you frown any further, smoke may come out of your ears," he quipped shamelessly. He stood up and pointed at her face. "What did I say about smiling, hmm?"

"Oh, just fuck off and move." She pushed past him, nearly knocking herself over in the process as she squeezed her way around the coffee table to take her place next to Charlie again.

"Vaggie," Charlie started to scold her.

"No, it's quite alright, Charlie," he assured politely. "Husk and I wanted seconds anyway, remember?"

And that was how they all spent the next hour or so, grabbing second helpings from the kitchen and riffing off each other. A normal night.

Charlie observed everyone in silence, feeling far too drained to contribute, but definitely not feeling the need to leave and shut herself away. _That was good_ , she had to keep reminding herself. _That was better_. And when Angel brought out some popcorn from the kitchen and started flicking some at the others at random intervals, it even got a chuckle from her. It then got a big laugh from everyone when Husk dramatically flipped out on him.

The only point when she felt the need to leave was to go get more soup and come back. She picked up her empty bowl and made to move. She shouldn't have been surprised when another snapped resounded and the bowl filled again.

She chuckled, almost nervously, but mostly in good humor. "Please tell me you can't read minds now, Al."

"Most certainly not," he laughed. "The jumbled and needlessly overwhelming thoughts of others hardly interest me. No! Your face said it all. It was quite obvious."

She was about to remark that he wasn't even looking at her when she was about to get up, but then a cluster of popcorn hit him smack dab on the side of his face.

"Ehh, that was for the little busy body, but whatever," Angel snickered, nodding at Niffty who was practically fuming at the mess he was making.

Charlie covered her laugh with her hand, though everyone definitely heard her. Vaggie stared cautiously at Alastor, readying herself in case she needed to intervene. To her surprise, Alastor merely rolled his eyes, flicked some kernels off his shoulder, and picked up his book.

Charlie couldn't help it; She looked around at everyone for the umpteenth time. This time, it was with a calm, content air that she didn't think she would ever feel again.

Vaggie was staring silent threats at Alastor. Angel was intent on annoying everyone. Niffty was about ready to explode. Husk was picking popcorn out of a beer bottle. Alastor was politely ignoring everyone's antics while silently getting a rise out of Vaggie.

Charlie's always been social. A family person.

Her smile didn't quite reach her ears, but it was a genuine, content smile all the same.

This was an interesting family to have.

This was the new normal.


	2. Business Plan

Charlie wasn't lying when she had left her mom that one voicemail. She really didn't know if she would make a difference, and she really did have no idea what she was doing.

Too much had happened in the last two months. The Hotel opened, Angel Dust became a resident, the Radio Demon gave them new staff members within minutes, Charlie still refused to talk about what made her so clearly upset the other night… And not a single demon had yet to join the Hotel. Not willingly nor without selfish motive, that is. The only residents were the six of them, and they were all just employees for the most part, not active redemption-seekers.

"What if we make some posters," Charlie had enthusiastically suggested one afternoon. "We type 'em up, print 'em out and…" She had trailed off. What was she supposed to do with them? Ask local businesses to tape them to a window? Staple them to lamp posts? Personally hand them out to demons?

Seeing the sudden forlorn look on her face, Vaggie put a hand on her shoulder. "We'll come up with something," she said with a warm, reassuring grin. Then, her grin faltered. "Now…Can we get back to…?" Her eyes drifted to their lunches in front of them.

Charlie shook her head quickly. "Right, yeah, sorry! Got a little carried away. We can totally talk about work later. Sorry."

Now, Vaggie watched from Charlie's doorway. She knitted her eyebrows together in concern as her girlfriend was typing away on her laptop. It's not that Charlie had been distant recently, she was still as social and upbeat as ever, but she now buried herself in her work, trying to come up with ideas for the Hotel and how to invite sinners. Every idea had some roadblock or other, and Vaggie could tell it was getting to her. Most conversations nowadays, like the lunch date, almost always ended up with Charlie talking about the Hotel.

And Vaggie certainly didn't blame her. The newly-named Hazbin Hotel was practically her magnum opus, and, at the end of the day, also her home.

As soon as Charlie's parents gave her the Hotel, she immediately moved in. Her reasoning was that it only made sense to stay in the same place as the other sinners, to show her one-hundred-percent commitment. Vaggie, however, also knew that her relationship with her parents had always been a little shaky. Aside from the fact that she was almost the complete opposite of them, they were also often too busy, just like any other overlord of Hell. Moving out of her parents' place had been almost effortless for her. Almost too eager to move out.

Vaggie's thoughts were interrupted by her. "What are you standing there like that for," Charlie said with a small, tired grin. "Come in. Sit with me." She patted the bed.

Vaggie smiled back halfheartedly. She wanted to spend time with her, she really did. But she knew where any conversation was going to go if she sat down with her, and that it was a conversation that could go on for hours.

From her enthusiastic ideas and schemes, and even down to their execution, Charlie always persevered. No matter how crazy or overly ambitious one of her goals was, when Charlie set her mind to something, nothing could shake her. She didn't always succeed, and she would often cause herself more stress in the process than it was worth, but she'd never had an idea that Vaggie couldn't get on board with. Vaggie supported Charlie in every sense of the word. And yet…

Vaggie did not support the Hotel.

Not because it couldn't work, because it could…Right?...Possibly?

It's just that…

No one wanted to be redeemed. No one wanted to be bothered with something so pie in the sky. And those that did certainly weren't going to show their face anywhere near the Hotel, lest their demonic reputation be tarnished. Vaggie was hopeful of things in the beginning, but then Charlie did that interview on the news, and Angel's involvement in a turf war was broadcasted, and that damned Radio Demon appeared insisting – no, demanding – he help. All on the same day. One thing after another, and Charlie still remained as positive as she could be.

They had been dating for well over a year now, and it was for the first time that Vaggie had very little hope that things could work, had begun doubting nearly every single one of her ideas. At the end of that day, Vaggie was dating Charlie, not the Hotel. Oh, but she sure as shit wasn't about to tell Charlie all that. I mean, how could she? How would it even sound coming out?

Vaggie leaned her shoulder further against the door frame, planting herself there. "Actually, it's been a long day," she responded with a yawn, which wasn't a lie considering how much help she gave Niffty today. "I'm probably gonna head to bed."

She placed her laptop in front of her and patted the bed once more. "Stay the night," she suggested with an endearing smile.

Vaggie chuckled. "I live right down the hall from you. And besides, I don't want to distract you from…whatever it is that you're doing."

"I'm just looking up ideas on how to run a business," she explained as she placed her laptop back on her lap. "New business owner and all. But every website isn't all that promising," she muttered with a frown. "Almost every single one suggests that you have to practically act like a car salesman in order to get a client. Like you have to do bribery."

"And singing a song on live television isn't that," she asked with a smirk, only to get a pillow flung in her face. She grunted as she just barely caught it and tossed it back at Charlie's playful grin.

"Hey, watch the laptop," she laughed.

"I did tell you not to sing, didn't I?"

"Oh, at least I got my point across," she lightly rolled her eyes. For the third time, she patted the bed. "Please stay the night? I'll turn the brightness down," she coaxed as she tapped the screen. "And I could really use your advice. Like always."

This was another side of the coin. Neither her nor Vaggie knew how to run a business. Any advice that she'd offered up until now hadn't really been advice so much as vague but caring support. And she told Charlie this.

"Even so," Charlie only shrugged. "I appreciate it all the same."

Vaggie fidgeted with the doorknob, trying to find words that were gentle. She sighed heavily and walked over to the bed. She sat beside her until their shoulders were brushing. "I just…don't wanna accidentally suggest the wrong thing." Charlie opened her mouth, but she swiftly continued. "I'm gonna go to bed. Do you need anything? Did you have any dinner yet today?"

Charlie hid a despondent sigh at her words. "Yeah," she said. "I had some of that leftover roast that Alastor made." She brightened. "Hey, maybe it's about time I go have a chat with him about all this. He is a co-owner after all."

Vaggie's entire body flinched.

Neither of them had trusted Alastor at first. Even so, Charlie wanted to start collaborating with him right away, especially after seeing him defend all of them from Sir Pentious. Vaggie was the one to suggest waiting a while. She seemed extremely convinced that the Radio Demon was up to something horrific. Who joins a rundown hotel simply for entertainment? Vaggie wanted to monitor him for the time being. Charlie knew where Vaggie was coming from, and remained cautious as well, but not as much as Vaggie.

Vaggie was constantly on edge. She was constantly on the lookout for danger whenever he was nearby.

Charlie was much more lax about it, for some reason. While everyone was at least a little tense around him, Charlie wasn't at all. She still kept her wits, but she also wanted to give him the benefit of the doubt. He had done nothing to hurt anyone, hadn't even threatened. In Charlie's mind, there was no reason to treat him any differently than, say, Angel or Husk.

And it infuriated Vaggie to no end. Not only because she was trying to protect Charlie, but also because of…how right she was.

"Okay," Vaggie finally said, through clenched teeth. "Remember what he said? Sheer absolute boredom? He's only here to laugh if things fall apart."

"He also said he wants to help us run it," she countered.

"Does he really though," she shook her head, unconvinced. "What if he just wants to help us run it into the ground?"

"He's been here for almost a month. He's protected the Hotel from Pentious, he's willingly made food for all of us every week, we've watched him give Husk and Niffty reasonable orders to keep things in top shape. Don't you think if he wanted to do anything, he'd have plenty of time to do it by now?"

Vaggie scoffed and crossed her arms. "Plenty of time to butter us up and let our guards down."

"Vaggie, we can relax around him."

She shook her head stiffly. "Do not go to him, Charlie," she all but begged. "I don't want you getting hurt. And it's doubtful he wants to lift a finger to help anyway."

Charlie looked to the floor bitterly. "Just like…" She trailed off in a mumble.

"Huh," Vaggie asked.

"Nothing," she said quickly. She leaned over and kissed Vaggie's cheek. "Just…Have a good night. And…I'll think about what you said."

This conversation would come up again in the future, they both knew. Just like how Charlie knew she was going to have to eventually fess up about her parents. However, they were both tired, both in different ways.

Vaggie cupped Charlie's face, stroked her pale skin with her thumb, and then made to leave. "You sure you don't need anything," she asked once more from the doorway.

Charlie frowned and looked away.

"What?"

She looked at Vaggie again. "I can't not be honest with you," she said. "You know I don't know what I'm doing. Alastor seemed really confident that he does. It's time we took his advice."

"But-"

"Do you trust me?"

Vaggie frowned at this question. "I trust you. It's him I don't trust."

Charlie simply shrugged. "Maybe that needs to change. This is a hotel for any sinner who wants to be here. And he genuinely wants to be here. He deserves the benefit of the doubt, just like how we gave Angel the benefit of the doubt."

"And how well did that work out," Vaggie remarked. And she realized how harsh it sounded. "I'm sorry, okay? But-"

"Do you trust me," she repeated.

Vaggie glanced down at the floor, the walls, the ceiling, anywhere but her for a solid minute. Finally, with a sigh, she said, "We can't trust him. You shouldn't get him involved." On that note, she walked out the door and down the hallway to her bedroom, leaving a slightly crestfallen Charlie behind.

Vagge wasn't a fool. She knew Charlie's mind was set on bringing Alastor in to their business dealings. She knew that he would more than likely take part of every little change from here on. She expected to be by Charlie's side when they'd have the first business-related conversation with him. After all, they did nearly everything together.

\-------

_How to run a business_

_How to run a hotel_

_How to get clients to come to your business_

_How to be a business owner_

And those were only to name a few. Charlie's search history was filled with those and other similar searches. And nearly every suggestion was, well, disturbing. Bribe new clients, lord yourself over your employees, incinerate ungrateful guests, fire and humiliate errant employees, and so on.

She groaned. She was hoping for something more informative, and just a little less…hellish. She clapped her laptop shut and all but tossed it aside.

"Yeah," she muttered to herself, eyes closed as she scraped her fingers over her face. "No damn clue what I'm doing."

And neither did Vaggie. Not that she blamed her. No, not at all, that's not what she was getting at. Vaggie was her rock, her partner in crime, so to speak. Every little hair-brained scheme or interest of hers could've easily have gotten her laughed at. And it has, but never from Vaggie. She was always ready to lend a hand for her, to go all in. But it wasn't lost on her how tired Vaggie was getting.

Charlie placed her chin in her hands as she slowly glanced around her room. "This…isn't working," she finally whispered to herself.

She had tried so much. Going on the news, politely approaching other demons one-on-one, asking her fellow employees to spread the word, asking her parents to send emails to the other overlords – If they ever even did that much for her. There was only one thing she had yet to try.

Asking her co-owner for help.

She got to her feet, picked up her laptop, and exited her bedroom. As she walked the halls, she felt a little bad, and she shouldn't have. It's not like Vaggie gave her an order or anything heinous like that. And Vaggie did say she trusted her.

No, that wasn't it. The reason why she felt bad was because she didn't want Vaggie to be a part of her conversation with him. Charlie wanted to be as professional as possible around Alastor. And while Vaggie could definitely be professional, she was also impulsive and brash. If Alastor so much as rolled his eyes wrong, Charlie would have to pry her off him. Charlie wanted this first meeting to be between just him and her. She wanted to gauge him without Vaggie being overly defensive. Alastor deserved that much, in her eyes. After that, Vaggie would most certainly be involved.

"Just not tonight," Charlie reasoned aloud to herself. "And that's fine. Right. That's fine."

She could hear jazzy music playing from within Alastor's room as she approached. She tucked her laptop under her arm, and she brought her other hand up to the door, but then paused. Was it fine? Would Vaggie be okay with this?

The short answer was no. Not because she'd be mad at her, but because she would feel overprotective of the whole situation, as if Charlie couldn't take care of herself. That was why she was doing this without her. Alone. Just this once.

Taking a self-assured breath, she curled her hand into a fist and knocked.

After a few seconds, the door swung open.

"Good evening, Charlie," he greeted with that ever-present smile and exuberance. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

"Hey, Al," Charlie said. "I wanted to ask you about some things, if you have the time to talk. But I know how late it is, so."

"Not at all. Come right on in." He made a sweeping gesture with his hand as he stepped aside.

"You sure," she asked as she went inside.

"Of course! I wouldn't have invited you in otherwise."

Charlie had always expected his room to be grandiose, ostentatious, especially with his flair for dramatics.

There was a tall bookcase without a speck of dust on it, bare wooden flooring, a chaise lounge, a kitchenette, a small round table with a single chair, a gramophone playing jazz, and an en suite. The only grand things were the king-sized bed and a chandelier. Everything else was pretty simplistic.

"So," Alastor said as he sat down at the table. "Finally decided to include me in your business endeavors?" He snapped his fingers, and another chair appeared.

She rubbed her arm and chuckled nervously. "You…caught on to that."

"Your lover made it obvious from the start," he said, steepling his hands on the table as Charlie sat down across from him.

"Yeah," she muttered. "I'm sorry about that. Vaggie can be…"

"It's quite alright," he shrugged. "Keep your friends close and your enemies closer and all that."

Charlie opened her mouth to ask how that applied to the situation when he continued on.

"Now, what is it that you need my help on?"

Charlie cleared her throat and placed the laptop on the table. "I need help trying to get things going. I've…never ran a business before. And I have no idea where to start."

He hummed, scratching his chin. "Then you'll hardly need this." He tapped the laptop and it disappeared in a cloud of smoke.

"Actually, can you bring it back," Charlie asked. "I have some ideas saved on there that I'd like to show you."

"On the internet," he questioned. "An internet run by demons? Do you think anything on there would be even remotely useful to you?"

Everything that came up in her search was downright despicable, but she thought that some of those ideas could at least be built off of and made into something better. However, he was sort of right. Deep down, she didn't really want to use even a smidgen of those ideas. Watching the laptop disappear was actually kind of a relief, as if a weight had lifted off her. With that lift came a fatigue that she didn't realize she'd been feeling. Suddenly, all of those weeks of working almost non-stop hit her like a ton of bricks.

Alastor saw her shoulders slump. "You needn't worry," he assured. "Your computer device is safe and sound in your bedroom."

"That's…not it," she sighed tiredly. She rubbed her hands over her face, through her hair, and then stopping them on the back of her neck. Alastor calmly tilted his head, silently requesting she keep going. "It's just…I've done so much internet searching, so much reading, so much…searching for a solution. And each and every time I feel like it's one step backwards."

"I see. And what do you think the best approach for things is?"

"There's the thing." She put her elbow on the table and her chin in her hand. "I don't know. I want sinners to know that they have a chance to redeem themselves, that they have that option. But the news station clearly didn't work, randomly walking up to demons to talk to them makes me look like an idiot, putting up advertisements will probably fall on deaf ears…I just don't know."

He hummed thoughtfully. "What about Angel Dust," he asked. "How did you manage to get his provocative soul into the Hotel?"

"Honestly," she said, voice deadpan. "Bribery. We met him on a street corner and we tried to see if he wanted to better himself, only for him to laugh in our faces. Until Vaggie told him it was free room and board and a safe place." She paused. "And that's what I wanna convey. A safe place to have a second chance. Not just a free meal ticket and a free place to stay."

Silently, he took in the dark circles under her eyes, an obvious sign of how worn down she was. "And what of Vaggie? Is she no longer helping you?"

"No, she's been so helpful, like always. She's pitching in…whenever she can. However, she's not an expert on these things either. Whatever I come up with, she's always telling me to go for it. To try it even if she doesn't know which step to take either, or even if she thinks it won't work."

Suddenly, as if he had somewhere to be, he stood up and walked away. "Well, that all makes sense, doesn't it," he said as he went over to his bookcase. He hummed along to the gramophone as he plucked out a book and began skimming its pages.

"Uh," Charlie said, eyebrows scrunched together. "What're you doing?"

"Absolutely nothing," he replied, eyes still on his book. "Isn't that what you want me to do?"

"N-no. Why would I come here if I-"

"Because I could give you multiple points of advice. I could give you every reassurance your little heart desires," he continued on as if he hadn't heard her. He put the book back and got out another one. "But what good would that do if everyone else has done the same thing."

She shook her head slowly in confusion. "I'm not following."

Not looking up from his book, he said, "Everyone has been telling you what you want to hear. Not what you need to hear."

Tilting her head and frowning slightly, she quietly stood up and walked over to him. "And what do I need to hear?"

He laughed and set the book neatly back into place, as if he had never picked it up in the first place. "Why, that you're surrounded by demons, my dear! Do you think anyone is going to go to this Hotel simply because you asked them?" He laughed louder, making her frown deeper. "Good gosh, no! It doesn't matter how well you run this place, how nice of a business owner you are, or how much you want to redeem souls."

He pivoted on his heels to face her and slowly pointed a long finger at her face. "You must let them find this place. It must be their idea. No one else's. No amount of positive outlook will change that."

Her shoulder hit the wall with a thump as she slumped against it. "Their idea," she murmured thoughtfully, but a little disheartened. "So…Bribing, then."

"Why, may ask, are you so against the idea," he asked as he crossed his arms behind his back. "A little incentive never hurt anyone. Just ask Adam and Eve." He laughed at his own joke, and Charlie would be a liar if she said she didn't at least grin a little at that. "I digress. Anyway, look how well it worked on Angel."

She crossed her arms and frowned. "He was only with us for two weeks before him and Cherri got into it with Sir Pentious."

"And he's still here, is he not?"

Her frown faded. "He is, isn't he?"

"Your problem is not how to run the Hotel," he said. "Your problem is getting people to come to it. You already have the word out there. Now it's a waiting game. Any hunter worth their salt will tell you it's too exhausting to track. You must let the prey come to you."

"Waiting game," she repeated. She turned herself to one of the windows to look down at the city.

Politely asking sinners to join the Hotel would never work. And Angel Dust was still living here. Alastor was right about everything. There wasn't much else she could do at this point. However, being at what felt like a standstill wasn't a feeling she was familiar with.

"Okay, now the next step," she murmured to herself. She then turned to face Alastor, who hadn't moved an inch from where he stood. "So, what do I do when a demon shows interest?"

He looked at her pointedly with a smirk. "I think you know the answer to that one."

"Ugh," she grunted. "I just hate that I'm almost tricking them."

"By doing what," he asked. "Giving them a safe place to stay? Regular meals? All the alcoholic beverage they could desire? All the while a chance at redemption? They're getting everything in one fell swoop."

"Well," she pondered. "When you put it like that…But it just feels like no one is showing interest. They all think of it as a joke."

"You can't read minds, my dear." He pointed out the window. "There ought to be at least some hapless souls out there who thought differently about your performance on the news."

She smiled slightly. "Yeah. After all, you're here. And you should know no one was expecting that."

"I should hope not," he laughed. "How under-dramatic would that be?" She laughed with him. "Have I answered your question?"

"Yeah…unfortunately," she said, glancing out the window one last time. She noted how much darker it had gotten. She looked at Alastor and exhaled the remaining tension. "It's definitely not what I wanted to hear, but I really did need that perspective."

He raised a brow. "I should hope I will be more involved in the running of this hotel?"

"From now on, yes," she said firmly. "Alright…It's late, and I've taken up too much of your time-"

"Not hardly," he said, walking away from her towards the gramophone. He replaced the next vinyl, and a soothing piano solo filled the room. "We are business partners after all." He went back over to her and put his hand on her upper back. "Allow me to show you out."

Alastor had no regard for personal space, so she was expecting something like this. She was also expecting him to more or less push her out of his living space in order to have his privacy back. Instead, he waited patiently, with only the slight bit of pressure from his hand. She only stood there for a second before she began walking, though it felt longer than that.

Alastor's hand didn't leave her until he opened the door and she stepped out into the hallway.

"You have a good night, my dear," he said, ever exuberantly.

"You, too," she said with a warm smile. "And thank you. Again."

"Don't thank me yet," he smirked. "I still don't think you'll be successful. But we won't know nor have any fun if there aren't any sinners here."

"I guess?" She ended it with an obvious question mark, causing Alastor to snicker. He bade her one last 'goodnight' before shutting his door.

She exhaled and rubbed one of her arms. She didn't feel better per se, but the weight of feeling like she'd been doing something wrong this entire time had finally lifted. It wasn't a win, but it certainly wasn't a loss, not as much as she originally thought it was.

She walked away from his bedroom door, listening to the fading and eerie echo of the gramophone, still feeling the warmth from his hand on her back, and ready to finally get some much needed rest.


	3. Partnership

"What," Vaggie exclaimed so loudly it echoed through the dining hall. She all but slammed down the plates she was holding in shock.

"You said you trusted me," Charlie reminded as she continue to set her side of the table.

"And I also said that I don't trust _him_ , and for good reason! What were you thinking?!"

"I was thinking it was finally time to include him in the running of this hotel," she explained evenly. "Just like what he said he wanted to do from the beginning."

Vaggie threw her hands up in exasperation. "So you gave him exactly what he wanted then!"

"I gave him what he deserved," Charlie spat back in a rush to get her tirade to stop, which it did. Vaggie stilled at her outburst. Charlie exhaled. "He's been here for a couple weeks. He could've easily tried to take over if he wanted to. He could've easily barged his way in on any conversation we've had…But he didn't. Not once"

Vaggie shook her head quickly. "But that was then. Now that you've allowed him to take part, who's to say he won't take over? Or hurt anyone?"

Charlie's eyes narrowed at her. "Like me."

Vaggie sighed. "Charlie-"

"We hung out for nearly an hour. He had every opportunity to try something." Looking away from Vaggie, she resumed setting the table. "I'm not saying he's perfect, but neither are we. We need to meet him halfway, like he did with us."

"What do you mean," Vaggie asked, crossing her arms.

"Well, I don't know exactly," Charlie tilted her head at her own aloud musings. "But I think he's been giving us space on purpose. We've only seen him on and off since he first got here. I think he was giving us time…and patience to see if we would come around to trusting him. When I left his room, he asked if we were going to include him in things from now on, and I said yes."

"We," Vaggie muttered bitterly. "You mean you? And patience? Really? He's not that considerate."

Looking at Vaggie, she shrugged. "How do we know that if we don't try to bridge any gap?" Vaggie glanced away and didn't respond to that. "I'm not saying we sit down and play Twenty Questions with him or anything. It's up to him if he wants to be social like that. But he's our business partner, he lives here, he hasn't done anything to hurt or even threaten any of us-"

"Speak for yourself," a deep voice interrupted. Husk entered the dining hall, his eyes skimming over the empty plates and glasses. "He casually threatens me on a regular basis."

"Husk," Charlie frowned sympathetically.

"I don't need pity from no one," he grimaced at her. "My fault for digging that pit in the first place. 'Sides, if a week goes by where I don't feel even the slightest bit terrorized by that creepy son of a bitch, then something ain't right."

"Why do you even let him push you around," Vaggie asked.

He made a grumpy, noncommittal grumble as he inspected the inside of an empty champagne flute. "All part of my debt that I don't have a hope in hell of paying off anytime soon. Like I said, I dug that pit."

He frowned at the smudges he saw. "Do you people not know how to clean glasses around here?" He snatched a couple off the table. "Whoever's on dishes duty tonight…It ain't gonna be me this time. Make sure they do it right." As he walked by Charlie, he tapped her upper arm with his elbow. "Make it part of the rehabilitation," he said jokingly.

Charlie raised an eyebrow. "…By washing dishes?"

"Yeah. Builds character and shit." He continued to snicker as he left the room.

Charlie watched as he disappeared into the kitchen to clean the glasses. Hmm. Maybe Husk was actually onto something. Then, she shook her head quickly, not liking how off-topic things had gotten.

"Anyway," Charlie continued on. "Back to what I was saying about Alastor-"

"You just heard what Husk said." Vaggie had finished setting her side of the table with a scowl.

Charlie pretended to not have heard her. "We need to include him from now on."

"But-"

"Trust doesn't happen overnight," she interrupted. "But it can't happen at all if we don't try."

"And you think he's been trying," Vaggie scoffed.

"In his own way…Yes." She paused. "As far as Husk goes…To be fair, it's mostly bantering. Every time I've seen them interact, Husk isn't afraid to mouth off to him. He even said, 'Fuck off, asshat' to him the one time."

"I bet that pissed Alastor off."

Charlie shook her head. "Nope. Even if he was ever so slightly annoyed, he just kept on smiling and walked away. If Husk was truly afraid of him, don't you think he'd show it? Niffty isn't afraid either, and he conjured her from out of nowhere. Hmm, I wonder where she even came from."

Vaggie simply muttered a vague string of stubborn words under her breath. Charlie straightened up the last place setting and stepped back to admire their work.

Vaggie glanced at the table and said. "You know everyone's just gonna take their plates and stuff to one of the common areas, right?"

"Yeah, but it kept me busy," she shrugged.

"You're always busy," Vaggie pointed out, trying not to let the disappointment into her voice.

It wasn't lost on Charlie, though. She sighed heavily and walked around to Vaggie's side of the table. She placed her hands comfortingly on her shoulders.

"I know that," Charlie said. "I've been trying to figure things out, and my mind has been working nonstop. Once things are more organized, more scheduled, and more according to plan, then we'll be spending so much time together we'll be sick of each other!" She ended with a warm chuckle.

Vaggie half-smiled at her. Then, she frowned again and her shoulders slumped in defeat. "And Alastor is the way to do that?"

"Yes," she responded. "Even though he's just here for a laugh, he's still offering to help. That's enough for me." She stepped back a little, sliding her fingers to Vaggie's hands. "What about you?" She looked at Vaggie with scrunched eyebrows, waiting for her response with a mix of hope and uncertainty.

Still frowning, Vaggie stared into her eyes for many moments before responding. "We should still be on our guard."

Charlie shook her head. "He'll pick up on that. And then he won't trust us back."

Vaggie briefly gritted her teeth. After several seconds, she sighed and squeezed Charlie's fingers. "If you're sure…"

A delighted squeal elicited from Charlie as she hugged Vaggie tightly. "Thank you," she said with a wide smile as she pulled back. "It's gonna be so great! All three of us working together!" Smiling from ear to ear, she picked up a plate and took it to the kitchen to fill it.

Vaggie still had yet to smile. Grabbing her own plate, she said to herself, "This is gonna be a nightmare."

\-------

Vaggie had always thought it was a little suspicious. The Radio Demon appeared, gave them new staff members, protected everyone from Pentious, insisted he help run the Hotel…all in one day. After that, Alastor had settled himself in as if he owned the place. Well…Technically, he now did. Partially, that is. What raised her suspicion was how distant he'd been as soon he'd settled.

He was social enough, but for the most part he kept to himself. He joined everyone for meals and occasionally gave orders to Niffty and Husk, but that was about it. The whole time he'd been here, he'd more or less been a resident rather an employee, as if it was just a long relaxing getaway for him. He didn't seem to have any urge to lift a finger to help either her or Charlie.

Until now.

Vaggie and Charlie had purposefully found a little sitting area away from the others to enjoy some quiet, peaceful alone time with each other. They'd been done eating and were now just lounging lazily on the couch as they conversed about any odd thing that came to mind.

"Good evening, ladies," Alastor crowed as he suddenly appeared behind them.

Vaggie scowled. Despite being in a public part of the Hotel where anyone could wander by, she immediately felt threatened by his sudden intrusion. Charlie, being the social butterfly that she was, immediately perked up.

"Hey, Al," she greeted as he sauntered around the couch to take a seat in a chair across from them.

After a moment, Charlie nudged Vaggie. "Yeah," she muttered begrudgingly. "Hi."

"Having a good evening, are we," he asked, grinning specifically at Charlie.

"Yeah," Charlie responded. "Not a bad day overall. Pretty relaxing."

Alastor's smirk took on an almost mocking edge as he addressed Vaggie. "And what about you, my dear?"

She rolled her eyes. "We _were_ doing just fine."

"Glad to hear it!" On that note, he conjured a wine glass and took a sip from it.

"What about you," Charlie asked.

"No complaints from me either. I had the most rousing game of cards with both Niffty and Husker today. Oh, the interesting bets they proposed! They both thought they could double-team me." He belted out a laugh. "Ah. Let's just say they may or may not have added years onto their debts. Not that they need to know that, eh?" He waggled his eyebrows at them.

"How much, um, do they owe you exactly," Charlie asked curiously. "And…Why do they owe you at all?"

"Oh, they still have plenty of time, believe me. Nearly endless," he chuckled. "As far as the 'why', well, let's leave a little mystery to that, shall we?"

"Why do you still hold it over their heads," Vaggie asked. "Nothing else for you to do?"

"Because we made a deal," Alastor said as if it were obvious. "I can't go back on my word just as much as they can't go back on theirs. It's almost a partnership, if you will."

Vaggie looked pointedly at Charlie. "Did you hear that? A partnership."

Charlie frowned, knowing what she was getting at. "Vaggie-"

Vaggie ignored her to glare at Alastor. "So what kind of deals are you going to make with us? We are business _partners_ , of course."

"No deals."

Vaggie blinked, but then composed herself with a snort. "Yeah, right. And I was born yesterday."

"I've no need to make a deal with either of you," he explained casually. "Especially considering our dear Princess had already made one upon my arrival."

"You didn't actually shake on it," Vaggie remarked, not noticing how Charlie sank a little against the backrest of the couch.

"A deal, nonetheless," he added. He looked at Charlie, clearly seeing the downcast change in her demeanor, but not outwardly acknowledging it. "You've ordered me to help with this hotel for as long as I desire."

Realizing his gaze was now on her, Charlie immediately straightened as she tried to push away the dread at hearing the word 'Princess'. Then, a thought came to mind. She had given that order when she was still Princess. Does that mean their deal was now broken? She pushed that away as well, making a mental note to at least come back to that one later.

Vaggie crossed her arms and her legs as she narrowed her eyes at him. "And what do you get out of it?"

He laughed at her. "Come now, dear. Don't you remember? I get the entertainment of a lifetime!"

"Really," she scoffed. "That's all. No catch."

He leaned back against his seat and didn't bother hiding an eye roll. "If you want me to provide you with an ulterior motive you could also say that I'm getting pleasure from watching Husker despise his very existence." He shook his head. "But you're right. No catch. There's no need for one. We all get what we want is how I see it. You need help running this hotel, and that is exactly what I intend to do."

He brought his attention back to Charlie. "A deal is a deal. And the other night, Charlie held up her end of the bargain by coming to see me. It was up to her as to _when_ she wanted my help." He paused to let go of the now empty wine glass. Charlie and Vaggie watched as it disappeared before it could crash to the floor. "And now you have it! So, where shall we start? Any specific thoughts?"

Vaggie wanted to venture further into Alastor's psyche. Despite how casually he talked about his deal-making and his need to subtly torment Husk and Niffty, she still felt like she had gotten nowhere. Isn't that what Charlie wanted her to do? To get to know him better and earn each other's trust? However, any further opportunity to do so went out the window as soon as Charlie started talking.

They had been so relaxed, and Vaggie had finally gotten the opportunity to spend private time with her girlfriend. Now, she didn't even have time to blink or say anything before they both started swapping ideas.

"Now that the only thing to do is wait for sinners to check in to the Hotel," she started. "We need to start planning what to do when they're here. We're supposed to have activities and methods to help them better themselves." She glanced at Vaggie. "But we've fallen up short on ideas. We tried to collaborate with Angel when he first came here. We wanted to see if he had any ideas, but he was happy enough with just having a place to stay, then he walked away."

"He was also laughing under his breath as he did so," Vaggie grumbled.

Charlie grimaced and nodded. "And the things we've thought of recently have sounded childish, and we don't want anyone to feel insulted."

"Don't want anyone to feel insulted?" Alastor laughed. "You certainly are a different kind of demon, my dear!"

She tucked her hair behind her ear self-consciously. "I…hope that's a good thing."

"It most certainly is," he said, earning a hint of blush from her. She put a hand on her cheek, trying and failing to hide it. He spread his arms out to gesture vaguely at the halls of the Hotel. "Especially while running a place like this."

Charlie cleared her throat at the sudden flattery, feeling flustered. "We, uh...Anyway, we wanna take this seriously," Charlie explained. "Because it's, well..serious. I was thinking something along the lines of therapy…or maybe even a counseling method. To really begin to understand everyone's perspective, and then just work from there."

Alastor shook his head. "No one will go for that ridiculous scheme."

"Hey," Vaggie snapped. "Watch it!"

"It's fine, Vaggie," Charlie said calmly as she put a hand on her shoulder. "He's just speaking his mind. Besides, we aren't making any final decisions right this moment."

She continued to glare at him. "He can at least try and be more considerate about it."

" _He_ is sitting right here," Alastor remarked. "Do you want my help or not?"

"Well, that's an interesting question-"

Charlie slapped her hand over Vaggie's mouth. "Anyway," she said, only taking her hand away once she was sure Vaggie had calmed at least a little bit. "Why do you think it's ridiculous?"

"It's far too intrusive. Demons value many things. Territory, pride, image. And of course, privacy."

Charlie tapped her chin. "Hmm. That's a good point. Especially since Angel hasn't really…opened up yet. And he's been here for several weeks."

Vaggie shrugged. "It's still a method that could be useful. Some demons will just have to learn to suck it up."

Vaggie continued to glare at Alastor, and Alastor stared right back in her eyes with that unflinching grin.

Seeing the obvious tension, Charlie blew out a puff of air. "Or we can compromise," Charlie suggested to them, making them both break their staring contest to look at her. "Offer some sort of psychiatry later once they get comfortable and start to trust us." She glanced between the two of them, waiting for a response.

Vaggie crossed her arms and leaned further against the couch. She watched Alastor closely, waiting to see if there was a crack in his demeanor at having to compromise something he thought was useless. Infuriatingly, all he did was smile at Charlie.

He hummed thoughtfully and nodded once. "I suppose that's something to consider for the future. It'll all depend on the individual sinner," he supplied calmly, casually.

It's not that Vaggie wanted to get a rise out of Alastor. She just knew what he was capable of and knew how dangerous him being here was. How the hell did Charlie not see it? And why the hell did he seem genuinely unoffended by Charlie still wanting to use an idea that he thought was useless? How the hell did Charlie find it so easy to talk to him?

That's exactly what was happening now. They spent a good long while talking, bouncing ideas off each other. Some small, some grand. Alastor provided his insight of sheer honesty and logic, and Charlie balanced it with enthusiasm and compromises.

Vaggie crossed her arms and sighed, feeling like a third wheel. She had nothing to contribute, as all her ideas she'd already ran by Charlie previously. She felt tempted to leave given that she didn't want to be closer to the Radio Demon anymore than she had to, but she refused to leave Charlie's side.

Every now and then, Alastor would say something that thoroughly got on Vaggie's nerves, to the point where she felt defensive of her girlfriend. It's not that he was insulting or belittling her, but Vaggie had absolutely no clue how his turn of phrase and blatancy wasn't making things worse on Charlie. In fact, she took it in stride, completely unafraid to counter his ideas.

Unafraid of him.

Alastor tilted his head and smirked teasingly at the newest idea. "Really, my dear? A game night?"

"Sure," Charlie smiled. "You said we should avoid anything intrusive. A game night is supposed to be fun, and it'd be up to anyone if they wanted to share anything about themselves, or swap stories. Whatever games we play take priority first, and rehab second."

Alastor chuckled, and a thoughtful smirk played on his face. "Like I said. A different kind of demon," he murmured. Charlie once again blushed at this, and this time, Vaggie noticed. "It's safe enough to try," he said. "And who knows? It might just be crazy enough to work."

"Uh, Charlie," Vaggie tried through gritted teeth, feeling like this had gone on for long enough.

"And Husk also had an interesting idea," Charlie said to Alastor, not having heard Vaggie, blinded by how they were finally on the verge of some progress. "Well, not really an idea so much as a joke, but he was onto something-"

"Charlie!"

At Vaggie's sudden outburst, Charlie immediately stopped talking, her body flinching as if chastised.

"It's getting late," Vaggie muttered to her impatiently. "Maybe we should call it a night. Think of new ideas for a later date."

Alastor's wide smile mixed with a scowl as he started to finally become intolerant of Vaggie's defensiveness. It was inevitable given how much she was deliberately trying his patience. And he also despised how uncomfortable Charlie had become, which was admittedly a new and oddly confusing feeling for him. Hmm, how curious.

Just as well, Charlie was obviously not thrilled about Vaggie's interruption either. She exhaled as she tucked some stray hair away from her face. She finally felt like she was getting somewhere, not only with ideas, but with establishing a working relationship with Alastor. She didn't want it all to screech to a halt, but she supposed Vaggie was right. It was now nighttime, and she could definitely write down anymore ideas for future meetings.

"I suppose so," Charlie finally said.

Vaggie stood up, all too eager to get out of there. Charlie stayed seated on the couch as she straightened herself professionally. Alastor's scowl relaxed as Charlie brought her attention back on him. He hid his confused blink, even more curious as to how the simple act of her looking at him made some of his agitation fade.

"Vaggie's right," she said. "I've talked your ear off, and we're all pretty tired."

"Oh, I'll be up for a few hours yet. There was a study I came across with a promising book collection that's just begging for my attention." He waved dismissively. "And don't think for a second that I'm offended by your chatter. I had a delightfully entertaining evening!"

Charlie quirked an eyebrow as a warm smile crept onto her face. "Really? All we did was talk about work stuff."

He chuckled. "Amusement often comes in the most oddest of forms. Apparently, drawling for hours about the fanciful notion of making a demon's life easier is one of them."

Charlie didn't know whether to feel flattered or not at that, but she didn't have time to respond when a couple small clouds spontaneously appeared in front of all three of them. They cleared to reveal three glasses of wine.

Alastor took his and held it up. "To our partnership," he offered.

Grinning excitedly, Charlie plucked her glass out of the air. She wasn't one for alcohol, and she most likely wouldn't drink any of it, but she took it to clink it against his own. "To our partnership."

Dread filled Vaggie's stomach at how easily Alastor had wormed their way into their lives, and how he seemed determined to stay there. There was no getting rid of him. There was no way of convincing Charlie to tell him off. Vaggie didn't know whether to glare daggers at the wine or at Alastor, so she opted for both.

This was going to be a fucking nightmare.


	4. Symbiotic

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shout out to my editor. Without him, this story would not be possible.

She couldn't stop thinking about the various business meetings her, Vaggie, and Alastor have recently had. She was thankful for Alastor's insight, and she truly felt they've made some progress, though nothing had been put into motion yet. The problem was their deal. She turned over in her bed to face the other side of the room, looking at nothing in particular.

Alastor was insistent that he help with the Hotel, so much so that he wanted to shake on it. Charlie, knowing full well how sinister a deal-maker he was, knew better than to finalize something so binding. So she simply allowed Alastor free rein of the Hotel of his own accord. ' _I hereby order that you help with this hotel, for as long as you desire. Sound fair?_ '

She worded that statement that way for a couple reasons. One of which was to not appear weak in front of an overlord, and to at least attempt to assert herself as a royal that demands respect. However, it was also to give both of them an out. For Charlie, it was to make sure she didn't get herself permanently roped into any of the Radio Demon's trickery. For Alastor, it was to make sure that he knew he could leave whenever he wanted to. She turned over again, sighing thoughtfully through her nose.

It wasn't normal for someone – anyone – to want to help her with anything. Charlie had lost count of her own age years ago, maybe even decades, and during her whole existence she had to work hard in order to do the things she wanted to do. Despite nearly every demon's mockery of her being a spoiled royal, that couldn't be further from the truth. While it was true that her parents made sure she always had transportation and a roof over her head, anything else she wanted was up to her. Her parents never helped her, never encouraged or discouraged her, and it was rare when things were handed to her on a silver platter. Most of the dreams she wanted to accomplish never came easy to her because it was normal to never get any assistance with them.

And then Vaggie arrived in Hell. Stubborn, quick-to-anger, defensive, big-hearted Vaggie. They didn't click right away. When Vaggie realized she was in Hell, she trusted absolutely no one. When she met Charlie, she was absolutely dumbfounded, not only that someone like her existed in this damned place, but also that nothing seemed to bring her down.

It took quite a bit of getting used to. At first, when Charlie had a plan to do something, Vaggie would try to vaguely sway her from doing so. She chose her words carefully so as not to cause disappointment, and she also didn't want to see her fail at anything. Eventually, Vaggie relented and began going right along with Charlie, no matter what she disagreed on.

Charlie knew this. Everyone thought her naïve, but she was very empathic. People's emotions and thoughts often went hand in hand, and she was very much aware when people disagreed with her, were sarcastic with her, or even mocked her.

Vaggie never mocked her. Although she occasionally doubted Charlie, she was always willing to lend a hand, and encourage her to do what she felt she needed to do.

And then Alastor arrived at the Hotel. Not since Vaggie did Charlie meet anyone with any drive to help her or her current cause. He insisted he help right off the bat, no hesitation. At the time, the Hotel had been bare of any residents, save for her, Vaggie, and Angel. So even though he was here strictly for entertainment purposes, she couldn't imagine that an overlord of Hell would truly want to waste a lot of their time here. It just wasn't normal in her case.

Yet, Alastor was still here and looking completely content.

During these last few weeks, they bounced ideas off each other every now and again. Nothing was put into place quite yet, given there had been no new clients, but they were all pretty promising. A game night, a rec room, a garden, chore lists – thank you, Husk – a book club, and any other small ideas. Small enough to eventually lead to big things.

Not once did Alastor seem inconvenienced or exasperated. He took Charlie's rants in stride and listened intently to everything she had to say. Oh, he was never afraid to shoot down an idea, and Charlie was grateful for that. She never felt offended by his opinions because she felt like she could keep her head screwed on straight around him. Alastor was more than willing to let her chatter as much as she needed to, but he always stopped her at the first sign of something not well thought out.

She never would've guessed how much she needed someone like him. He genuinely wanted to help, and he seemed to have no intentions of leaving anytime soon. Even though she didn't consider their agreement to be a deal, Alastor sure did and he took that commitment seriously.

Knowing all of this, what would become of their deal now?

Charlie was no longer a Princess, and she gave an – indirect – order as such. Was it now null and void?

Charlie winced. Why did it now suddenly feel like a moral dilemma?

Should she tell him she'd been disowned? Would it make a difference? This would be quite the update. Would it be considered lying if she didn't tell him anything changed? How much did this truly affect things? The last thing she wanted was for Alastor, or anyone for that matter, to feel like they were trapped here.

Charlie pressed the heels of her hands to her eyes with a tired groan. "No, Vaggie," she murmured mockingly to herself. "Of course I don't over think things. I'm just thorough." She blew out a puff of air, then she spread out her arms and let them fall to the mattress with a soft thud.

She wasn't sure if she would ever tell anyone what her parents did. It was way too easy to ignore it ever happened. Logically, she knew she couldn't avoid it forever, but she would try her best to do so, even if it mentally exhausted her. It was just…easier that way.

Her thoughts were interrupted by a sharp tap at her door. She sighed in slight relief, all too happy for a distraction. "Coming," she said as she kicked the covers aside and got up. She opened the door to reveal Niffty standing out in the hallway. "Good morning. Uh, need to know which areas need touching up on today?"

Niffty used to solely take orders from Alastor, but then she and Charlie had a heart-to-heart at some point. Though she was very self motivated, and the Hotel was huge enough to keep her busy for a lifetime, Niffty now regularly sought out Charlie for specific projects and repairs. Anything that would take precedence. Charlie was the owner, after all.

But Niffty shook her head, faced scrunched as if very worried. "It's not that. Uh, something happened, and well…" She suddenly grabbed Charlie hand and attempted to drag her out of her bedroom "Just come on. You gotta see this."

"Okay, okay," Charlie said as she yanked her hand back. "Can it wait 'till I get changed first?"

Niffty tapped her very thin foot impatiently, but then nodded in understanding. "We wouldn't want your pretty nightgown getting ripped up by the glass." And with that, she slammed the door in Charlie's face.

Charlie stared at the door with a mixture of concern and heavy confusion. She shook her head quickly, and then proceeded to her en suite. When she changed into her usual blouse, black pants, suspenders, and bowtie, she returned to her bedroom door.

"Lead the way," she told Niffty. As to be expected, Niffty skittered at top speed through the Hotel, with Charlie just barely able to keep up with her to wherever she was taking her.

Most of the windows in the Hotel were stained glass, and almost all of them depicted variations of apples, as did most of the general décor. This particular window was of an apple wrapped in thorns, on a grayish-black background that almost resembled scorch marks.

The window had shattered all over the floor. The shards had sliced up the carpet and tiny bits were stuck in the fibers. Charlie exhaled. Most of the Hotel was still in a state of disrepair. Though Niffty was doing a fantastic job of things, this mess pretty much added to her workload. It was a shame, but glass could be replaced.

She half-smiled down at Niffty. "I'll help you clean all this up. And…" She glanced at the window, a breeze wafting in through the cracks and the giant gap. "We'll figure out how to repair that later."

But Niffty grimaced. "It looks like somebody broke in."

She raised a brow. "This high up? It's the fifth floor."

"If they had wings, they coulda flown," Niffty suggested. "Or they're really good at climbing. I don't know, but this had to have happened recently."

"Well, you've been all over this hotel. Have you seen anything weird?"

"Nu-uh. Nothing."

Charlie crossed her arms, staring at the glass contemplatively. "So, recently as in within the last twenty-four hours, we're thinking?"

"Mhm, seems like. Ooh, we're like detectives," she suddenly grinned energetically. "I'll do all the forensic stuff. I love dissecting things! Except I wouldn't be very good at it. All that mess. Yuck!"

Charlie chuckled. "Let's see just how bad this mess is."

The glass wasn't just strewn all over the floor by the window, it continued down a small hallway, like a breadcrumb trail. Charlie kept her eyes on the floor as they walked. The pieces were very tiny and most had that gray pigment, looking like wisps of soot rather than sharp shards.

How the pieces got this far down the hallway was one hell of mystery. This was looking more and more like a break-in. The demon most likely had fur or feathers, making any excess glass easily get caught on them. As a result, the glass would gradually fall to the floor as the demon walked. There was no sign of blood or injury, and nobody had heard any commotion in the night. Whoever this was, was clearly a pro and knew what they were doing.

Niffty and Charlie stopped. The glass trail ended in front of a door.

Niffty bounced a little and tugged on Charlie's pant leg. "Come on, the suspense is killing me. What's on the other side of the door?!"

She gently brushed her off. "It's just an old office. Not much in there except dust bunnies." She paused a little and then realization dawned on her. "Oh."

Niffty looked at her. "What is it?"

Charlie sighed, not liking the prospect of going in there. "Whoever broke in…Well, they're probably very disappointed."

She opened the door. As expected, a cloud of dust kicked up from the sudden draft, getting in their faces and sticking to their clothes.

"No way, nu-uh," Niffty snapped, stepping back while brushing her hands over her skirt. "I won't go in there without my cleaning supplies. Be right back! Don't go anywhere!" At a speed no human or demon eye could ever keep up with, she disappeared.

Charlie waited for the dust to finally settle so she could enter the room without diving into a coughing fit. Once inside, she knew exactly where to look. Under a wooden desk sat an obnoxiously large steel money safe. The door was wide open and practically falling off its hinges, and the combination dial had been scratched off and tossed carelessly under the desk.

Ignoring the heavy layer of dust that blanketed the carpet, she sat down cross-legged in front of the safe. Not only was it completely empty, but it, too, was filled dust, practically caked on in a nice even layer. The safe had been forced open, but nothing inside it had been stolen because there had been nothing in it to begin with.

Feeling the annoying tears beginning to trickle down her cheeks, she swiftly closed the safe and stood up. She left the room, running her sleeve over her face and nearly bumping right into Niffty.

"So, what'd you find," she asked enthusiastically, heedless to Charlie's upset. "What'd they take? What's in there?"

She lowered her arm after making sure there was no evidence of her emotions left on her face. "Absolutely nothing."

Niffty gasped. "They took everything?! Those bastards!"

"No, no," Charlie shook her head. "There was nothing in there in the first place. Whoever broke in, they left empty handed." She looked around rapidly, for any excuse to walk away for a long moment to collect herself. "Look, I-I gotta go. Oh, shit, the glass! Um…I'll-"

"I got it," Niffty said with a smile, momentarily brandishing her vacuum like a lance.

"You sure," Charlie asked, craning her neck slightly to avoid getting whacked by the cleaning implement. "It always seems like you do so much work. And you never ask for help."

Niffty shrugged. "It's fun for me. And you'll only get in my way. Go do what you need to do," she ended with a sweet smile, and then began humming a quaint little tune whilst she readied her cleaning supplies.

"O-okay," Charlie caved, feeling guilty at having Niffty do all of that labor. However, her own thoughts were overwhelming her. She needed to get away, even if just for a second. "Just, um, don't worry about the window. We'll fix that. Plus, the breeze feels good…?" She concluded weakly before she finally decided to have mercy on herself and just leave the scene. She didn't want to look at that office or much less think of that cold, empty safe.

She knew her own safe, tucked away under the floorboards in her bedroom, would eventually suffer the same emptiness as well.

\-------

Alastor was conflicted, which wasn't a good state of mind for him to be in given his narcissistic persona.

He had been living in the Hotel for just short of three months. It wasn't as much of a riot as he had hoped it would be. It was still just the six of them living there, and while their antics were humorous enough, it wasn't that adrenaline-inducing, pulse-pounding, thrilling entertainment he had been searching for all these years. Sir Pentious had been a wonderful subject to redirect his talents, but the fiasco only lasted about a minute. It would've been shorter, but he'd been having too much fun and wanted to draw it out. Other than that bit of merriment, nothing else of consequence had happened.

He should leave. There was clearly nothing for him here, nothing to keep him here in the long run.

He was stubborn, though, even when it came to himself. He had everything he needed here, such as an adequate bedroom, an expansive kitchen, two particular demons to order around, and two others to share the business with.

His lifestyle prior to the Hotel wasn't exactly nomadic as he owned plenty of properties in Hell to hang his hat so to speak, but this was the first place that didn't contain threats or chaos. Though he was a little bored, it was still a calming change of pace.

Not complete boredom, though. No, Charlie had effortlessly seen to that. Her ideas and her topics of discussion always surprised him. One minute she'd be talking about implementing new rehabilitation techniques, the next she'd be talking about…Actually, that was all she talked about. Work. Did the woman not know how to take a break? Perhaps she'd been spending too much time with Niffty. Or had she always been like this?

Hmm. He tapped his chin as he continued his stroll through the hallways. 

Perhaps he ought to play music the next time he makes a meal for everyone. Song and dance really seem to lift her spirits. It would do her some good to let her hair down if only for an hour or so.

His imposing smile almost slipped. Why should it matter to him? Why should he care whether his co-owner be in good spirits? In fact, it would only make things even more interesting seeing her crumble from exhaustion. Wouldn't it?

Shouldn't it?

Some static piped up, a small teasing hiss in his ear. He rolled his eyes and flicked his wrist, making his microphone disappear. The static would always be present, but less so with the pesky thing temporarily out of the way.

Back to business.

He couldn't quite pinpoint why, but for some reason he and Charlie did rather well together. Neither were intimidated or threatened by the other's presence, and they seemed to understood each other's mentality. They also shared a very similar exuberant energy, and a zest for the need to accomplish something. They both had goals, and they both looked to each other to accomplish them. It was something so symbiotic that he'd never felt anything like it before. Perhaps that was why he didn't like how worn down she'd been feeling.

He also didn't like how little he knew about her. He was a firm believer in observing his opponents before engaging with them. That was one of the reasons he more or less invited himself into the Hotel once the door was open, to learn about everyone first hand before trying to make any deals. And also because he was all too enthusiastic to try something new with his life.

He was an observant, detail-oriented man. For many years, both alive and in Hell, he perfected the art of reading people and seeing them for who they really were. He also knew not to judge a book by its cover, which is why he was naturally social, to learn everything about whoever he was up against. Having said that, Alastor learned very quickly that most beings tended to carelessly broadcast their personality. It was just a matter of knowing what to look for, and then use that to his advantage.

He already knew Niffty and Husker, of course, for many years now. With Angel Dust, it took but a second to see his crude behavior and way of thinking. Vaggie was easy; very outspoken, furious at every little inconvenience, and all with a reckless lack of fear.

Charlie was the conundrum.

She buried herself in her work, worried about things a lot, had a flair for theatrics, and had intriguing pyrotechnic skills.

Well, now that he thought about it, he knew quite a bit about her, just slightly more than Angel and Vaggie. He should think that was enough. He knew enough about everyone in the Hotel now. Surely he didn't need to know more.

For some reason, it wasn't enough.

All she had to do was sing in front of live television. All she had to was put her demonic royal reputation on the line, for which she didn't even seem to care about. All she had to do was to defy every normal expectation of what Hell was.

Just her presence and her energy were enough to draw him in from the beginning.

He should've felt threatened by her, intimidated by how bold she was. He should consider her to be a worthy foe just like any other royal or overlord.

Vaggie, for example, longed to be intimidating, and to be menacing enough to someday ward him off. She was an opponent in every sense of the word.

Charlie was not. She was bright, positive, kind, and understanding. He had no reason to be intimidated by her. And what surprised him was…he didn't want to be intimidated by her. For years upon years, he constantly sought out adversaries, to feel that rush of raw power as he squashed them like the insects they were.

He chuckled through his nose, an almost bittersweet sound.

He did say he now craved a new form of entertainment, did he not? Well, he certainly was getting his wish. And a run for his money, while he was being honest. He certainly would have never guessed that this is where he would end up, much less guess that he would enjoy living here for the simple sake of living.

He also would have never guessed how charming he would find his co-owner.

Was Charlie his equal? He couldn't say…out loud that is, nor did he really want to admit it to himself. He always treated everyone with such disrespect, both physically and mentally. But not her. He wasn't afraid of being blunt around her or getting in her personal space, but he'd never felt the need to assert any kind of control or dominance over her.

Why did that thought make him feel so…content?

He found himself strolling towards one of the common areas. He sat down on a recliner with a muddled sigh, unsure of what to make of the tangled mess his thoughts had created.

He folded his hands serenely over his lap as he peered up at the ceiling. "Perhaps I'm getting complacent in my old age. Too much so."

With a dramatic whoosh, his microphone reappeared in front of his face. "Doubtful that's the only issue," it laughed boisterously at him. "No. Your problem is getting her out of your mind! Oh ho ho! You're in deep, old buddy – old pal! Why, you even reserved a specific bowl of soup for her when-"

Quick as a flash, Alastor flicked his fingers at the air in front of the microphone, forcing it to disappear once more. "That is her business. And that is quite enough," he growled as he listened to a laugh track fading into the ether. Then, he silently groaned. Why should he care about Charlie's privacy? Why should care about the opinions of his own microphone?

He put his elbow on the arm rest and placed his temple against his fingertips. He never chose denial as a trait, nor did he ever choose to ignore what was obvious.

He cared about this Hotel. He cared about the tiny amount of progress it was making. He even cared about Niffty and Husker, who he would always consider to be lifelong companions, no matter how much Husker objected.

He also cared about Charlie. Very much so, it would seem.

"Very well," Alastor said to the air. "A point goes to you. You win this one, old friend."

As expected, his microphone reappeared, its single eye glaring at him. "Just barely. I won't call it a win until I see you sweep her off her fee-"

The snap of his fingers echoed like thunder, and the voice of his microphone faded into silence. The eye glared up at him as it glowed red with indignation. Alastor chuckled haughtily at it. "I can't always get rid of you," he sighed. "The least I can do is silence you. For now, at least."

It blinked harshly at him, the glowing intensifying.

It only made him chuckle again. He stood up, plucked the microphone out of the air, gave it a showy twirl, and sauntered away from the common area.

His goal was to find Charlie. It was morning. A new day had begun, and he had no doubt she wanted to discuss even more plans for the Hotel. And if she didn't, if she desired to take a day off, then he would at least let her know where to find him should she change her mind. He had never seen her take any time for herself. It was a shame.

Just as he was a firm believer in getting to know one's opponents, he was also a firm believer in 'All work and no play makes Alastor a dull demon.' Or in this case, Charlie. How interesting it would be to get a chance to see what she was like when not in a working mindset. And he wondered how he could make it so.

Before he could ponder that further, he arrived at an intersection in the hallways. Golden hair passed by him in a flash.

Tilting his head, he said, "Where are you off to in such a hurry, my dear?"

He could hear those quick footsteps skid to a halt against the carpet. Then, her head poked around the corner. "Al, hey," Charlie exclaimed as she fully came into view to stand in front of him. "Uh, have you seen Vaggie?"

Well…That certainly didn't answer his question, but his interest was piqued nonetheless. "Not sure," he responded. "Certainly you would know best as to where she usually frequents."

Charlie nodded. "I had a few ideas. I was focused on finding you first, though. And, well, now I have."

His smile widened. "Oh? And what do you need me for?"

"I'll tell you in a minute," she said in a slight rush as she began turning away. "Gotta find Vaggie first." Just before she got out of sight, she turned to Alastor again. "Um, we need to all meet somewhere. Right now. What do you think would be a good place?"

All of their business meetings weren't normally held anywhere in particular. Whether it was in the dining room, kitchen, or any of the common areas, they were held wherever all three of them were at the time. However, Charlie clearly wanted this to be fairly private, so it would need to be somewhere secluded and out of the way.

He pointed down the hall. "There's an employee break room that Niffty had just recently polished. I'm sure that'll do just fine."

She smiled brightly at him. "Thanks, Al! We'll meet you in there." She started to take off down the hallway, but then she poked her head around the corner again. "Oh. And good morning." On that note, she disappeared.

Still grinning, chuckling under his breath at how amusing that was, he turned the corner to find the break room. "Oh, yes," he murmured as he glanced at his cane. "She certainly is a different kind of demon."

The microphone rolled its eye, still glaring up at him at being forced to stay silent. Alastor merely chuckled a little louder.


	5. Safe

Every few seconds, she furiously wiped her face off on her sleeves. After seeing that empty safe, her first instinct was to find a place to hide for a while and calm down. And she hated it. She hated feeling weak and needing to run away.

She came across a dead end in the hallway, and she thought that would do. Putting her back against the wall, she slid down to the floor. She curled her legs to her chest and put her chin on her knees.

It was a safe. Just a single, stupid, empty safe that triggered this.

Why couldn't she make it stop? Why couldn't she ignore it? Why couldn't she simply say a silent 'fuck you' to her parents and move on? Why couldn't she just forget all of her emotions and all of her memories?

She swiped her hands over her face again.

Because that wasn't the answer. It would never go away. She was doomed to feel this heartache probably for the rest of her life, however long that might be. So why cry about it?

Her eyes narrowed against the tears. Her parents didn't shed a tear or even show one shred of emotion in that interview. They stayed as professional and imperial as ever. Perhaps she ought to take a leaf from their book.

Quicker than expected, she was no longer crying. Instead, she was now glaring at the opposite wall.

"Fine, then," she grumbled hoarsely. She abruptly stood up and began pacing up and down the dead end. If her parents wanted to ignore her, then she would just have to figure out how to ignore them as well and move on. Besides, there were matters to attend to in the Hotel, and she needed to be on top of it.

"Okay, okay," she muttered to herself. "Just focus. Focus on what you need to do."

The most pressing matter was, obviously, the break-in. Someone had managed to break a window, sneak through the halls, claw open a safe, and leave, all without any of them noticing or hearing anything.

Admittedly, she hadn't expected something like this at all. Why would anyone want to break into a hotel that was for redemption purposes? Why would anyone want to break in to an establishment that she owned? Normally no demons messed with her because no one could be bothered to waste their time on her. Demons either mocked or straight up ignored her.

However, it wasn't her they were after. It was the money that they thought would be in the safe. She really should've anticipated something like this happening. A hotel under a royal family's name? Barely anyone living there? Almost no one around to be a witness to anything? This place was more or less the perfect opportunity to try a heist.

Charlie closed her eyes and slapped a hand to her forehead. "I'm so dumb. Why did I think no one would bother?" She scratched the skin of her forehead contemplatively.

The window wasn't an issue. Charlie still had some money left to get replacement glass. Niffty was handy with tools; she could teach Charlie how to remove the broken remains and replace the frame with a new window.

The issue was the security of the Hotel. Charlie had always envisioned this place to be a safe haven for anyone who needed it. And while redemption was high on the list, the biggest priority was the well-being of the Hotel and its residents. This morning had proved just how important that was.

She finally stopped her pacing, and she nodded determinedly to herself. Just before she set off, she involuntarily looked around the cozy dead end. Just as she was glancing towards the spot where she had just been sitting, she slammed her eyes shut.

"No," she growled. "I need to be done with this." She inhaled and exhaled sharply. "Time to move on." She left the area to go further into the Hotel. She needed to hold a meeting with her co-owners.

Finding Alastor would be easy. He wasn't much of a morning person, being livelier at night. It was still pretty early in the day, so Charlie assumed he would still be in his room. After that, it was finding Vaggie.

Vaggie was a wild card in the mornings. She either got up so early that you would've pegged her for an insomniac, or she sometimes slept in until well after noon. The two places she might be would be the kitchen for some breakfast or still asleep in her room.

Alastor's room was currently closest to where she was, so she'd start there first.

She did feel a little bad that she would possibly be interrupting his and Vaggie's sleep, but this was a matter that needed attending to now. For some reason, she felt like she was on a mission, and that she couldn't stop herself until she had found Alastor or Vaggie. It almost felt like she was running from something, but there was nothing to run from.

Just as she was speeding around a corner, she heard that familiar background buzz of radio static. "Where are you off to in such a hurry, my dear?"

Charlie skidded to a halt, and then spun around. She poked her head around the corner. "Al, hey," she exclaimed as she felt herself involuntarily smile. She walked over to stand in front of him.

It looked like he'd been taking a stroll through the hallways. Charlie was happy about this because it meant that she didn't need to disturb his sleep. Now, to find Vaggie. "Uh, have you seen Vaggie?" Internally, she scolded herself. Instead of at least saying 'good morning' first, she went straight to business. She couldn't have been just a little bit more professional?

She watched as his eyebrows furrowed in confusion for a split second before his face relaxed again. "Not sure. Certainly you would know best as to where she usually frequents."

She nodded. "I had a few ideas. I was focused on finding you first, though. And, well, now I have," she said with a light chuckle.

His smile widened. "Oh," he mused. "And what do you need me for?"

Charlie blinked. It wasn't his usual sinister grin. Instead, it was something light and curious, and…genuine. Charlie shook her head slightly, certain that she was reading too far into a simple facial gesture.

"I'll tell you in a minute," she said in a slight rush. Begrudgingly, she began walking away from him while still facing him. She had felt her mood lighten significantly as soon as she'd heard his voice, and she wanted to continue talking with him. But she had a mission. "Gotta find Vaggie first." Suddenly, she stopped. "Um, we need to all meet somewhere. Right now. What do you think would be a good place?"

He hummed under his breath as he got lost in thought. After a second, he suggested, "There's an employee break room that Niffty had just recently polished. I'm sure that'll do just fine." He pointed in the direction of where it was.

Her smile widened. "Thanks, Al! We'll meet you in there." She turned down the hall, but didn't get far before she realized what she'd forgotten. She poked her head around the corner again. "Oh, and good morning." Quick as a flash, she set off to find Vaggie. She wanted to see if she was having breakfast first before knocking on her bedroom door.

She didn't find Vaggie in the kitchen, but she did find Angel sitting on the countertop.

"Morning, princess," Angel grunted. He took a swig from the mug he was holding, which smelled heavily of espresso and liquor.

"Morning," she said, hiding a flinch at the nickname. "You seen Vaggie?"

"Nope."

Charlie tilted her head. Angel wasn't a morning person, as most of his work he did at night. Even so, he was usually a lot more chatty than this.

Experimentally, she tried something else. "Did you happen to see or hear anything weird last night?"

"Nope." Same burnt-out tone. Same neutral expression. He took another sip.

She really should be going to find Vaggie and meet with a patiently waiting Alastor, but something wasn't right.

"You okay," she asked. "You look like you didn't get any sleep."

Angel scoffed, staring at his mug. "Half of my clients last night gave me the wrong info on where we were meeting."

"Maybe it was...an accident," Charlie offered weakly.

Angel looked up from his mug to shoot her a scowl that practically oozed sarcasm. For Charlie, being positive in any situation was always worth a shot. And although her feeble attempt at optimism clearly didn't work, at least she saw some of Angel's sass.

He rolled his eyes as he hopped off the counter. "I barely made a cent last night," he grumbled while dumping the remains of the spiked coffee down the sink's drain. "Those little shits owe me, if I ever see 'em again." He leaned his back against the counter. "But, uh, no. Didn't see or hear anything 'cause I was out the whole night. Just got back," he grumbled as he rubbed his fingers against his sleep-deprived eyes.

Charlie flexed her jaw. "You know, Niffty had brought something up a while back. You don't have to work anymore, if you don't want to. We can provide you everything you need here."

He cracked a smirk at her. "Including a blow job?" He laughed at her awkward deer-in-the-headlights expression. "Who would I be if I wasn't an infamous hooker? I gotta get my kicks somehow." He shrugged. "Eh, so freelancing ain't easy. It's still better than…what I used to do. Anyway, doing shit on my own terms, alongside all this-" He pointed vaguely at the ceiling. "-Is one hell of an improvement for me." He pushed away from the counter to leave.

Charlie perked up at his words. "So…You really like living here?"

Without turning around, he said, "I'm still here, ain't I?" The kitchen door swung closed behind him, leaving Charlie alone.

Charlie allowed herself a moment to let his words sink in. He wasn't cracking jokes left and right, he wasn't making every other sentence an innuendo, and he didn't say any flippant jests or insults. She didn't know why, but it felt like a step in the right direction. And she wasn't referring to redemption. No, during those few minutes of talking with him, he sounded very casual.

Perhaps she was reading too far into it, given how exhausted he was. Either way, she left the kitchen with a little bit more enthusiasm.

She knocked when she finally arrived at Vaggie's door. There was some momentary shuffling of bed sheets before she heard footsteps. Vaggie gave a wide yawn as she opened the door. "This can't wait a few more hours," she asked groggily.

"Hi to you, too." Charlie grinned and pecked her on the lips. "And, no, it really can't. Something happened last night, and I need to talk to both you and Alastor – Oh, shit! We told him we'd meet him there. I can't imagine how long he's probably waited now. Um…But yeah, if you could get dressed and meet us in the break room, that'd be great."

Once again in a rush, she started sprinting away.

"Wait, wait," Vaggie spoke up. "Which break room?"

"The one down the hall," Charlie hollered back.

She probably should've specified which hall.

\-------

When she finally got to the break room, she was out of breath and anticipating Alastor no longer even being there anymore. He always seemed to have infinite patience, but it had to run out eventually, right? Charlie more or less left him to twiddle his thumbs, so why would he stick around for more than a few minutes when no one's showed up yet?

The break room was dimly lit and small, almost claustrophobic. There wasn't much to it, save for a couple cabinets, a dented fridge that probably wasn't running anymore, and a table and chairs. Sitting in one of those chairs was Alastor, who seemed perfectly content as he ate his breakfast.

"Ah, there you are, my dear," he greeted. "I was wondering where you'd disappeared to."

"I'm so sorry," Charlie huffed as she closed the door behind her. "I got held up. How long were you waiting for?"

He shrugged. "Not sure. Minutes? An hour? Who knows?"

"Ugh, I'm so sorry," she repeated with a groan as she stood across from him at the table. "I totally lost track of time for bit."

"There is nothing to be sorry for," he said with a dismissive hand wave. "I was enjoying some peace and quiet while I ate." He stabbed a piece of meat off his plate and took a bite.

"Well, Vaggie's not here yet. If you want, I could leave and come back so you can enjoy the peace a little while longer."

He laughed as if she'd made a joke. "Nonsense! You're here now." She had just caught the hint of fondness in his voice, but immediately got distracted by the chair next to her shifting slightly, seemingly on its own. "Take a seat," he said, and Charlie wondered if he'd toed the chair, or if he'd used his magic to make it move. "Have you had any breakfast yet?"

"No," she sighed as she sat down. "Too busy."

He raised a brow. "Already? But the day's hardly begun. Here." He snapped his fingers and a plate identical to his materialized in front of her. It appeared to be slices of meat smothered in sauce.

"What is it," she asked as she picked up a fork.

"Grillades," he said proudly, taking another bite of his own. "Veal slow-cooked in gravy. It's quite appetizing."

She paused, and put down the fork. "Veal…is a baby cow right?"

"Why, yes."

She felt herself getting impossibly paler as she stared down at the tempting food. With her fingertips, as if afraid of even touching it, she slowly pushed it towards Alastor. "I don't think I can eat that. You take it."

He was snickering. "Ah, yes, silly me. I should've anticipated it would be too sophisticated for your tastes."

She grimaced at him. "There is nothing sophisticated about eating a cute little baby cow."

He laughed louder. "You clearly haven't done much hunting, then. It's a little known fact that the young of animals is the tenderest of meats."

"Ugh," she shivered. "That's just disgusting and…so wrong."

He shook his head at her. "You'll have to eat something eventually." Just to tease her, he blew a puff of air at the plate. The steam rising from the hot food wafted directly into her face. "It smells quite delectable."

"No, no it does not," she argued stubbornly. Her own stomach argued as well, loudly betraying her when the heavenly aroma hit her.

Of course Alastor heard her hunger, and he continued laughing. Eventually, after a few seconds, he gave a long-suffering sigh. "Oh, very well. If you insist."

He pushed the plate in front of her again. She was about to shove it away when she realized it looked different. The texture of the meat and the color of the gravy had changed ever so slightly. She poked at it with her fork. "Still grillades," she asked hesitantly.

Of its own accord, a warmth spread through him at hearing her pronounce the term. It was so simple and yet it sounded adorable coming from her. What a strange feeling. He was happy he'd silenced his microphone, as its audience would surely be teasing him right now.

"Yes," he responded. "Beef, this time. It'll satisfy your taste buds, as well as your morals."

Sensing the condescension, she scowled at him while unable to hide a grin at the same time. "There is nothing wrong with my morals."

She took a large, dramatic bite. As to be expected, it tasted amazing, and she continued digging in. She hadn't known how hungry she was until she realized she'd already eaten more than half the plate.

"I take it it's to your liking," he chuckled.

"Is that even a question," she responded.

A few more bites later, and she no longer felt ravenous. Still, she couldn't help herself from clumsily scooping up the excess gravy with her fork and into her mouth.

"You know, I've always wanted to ask," Charlie said at some point. "Where do you get your cooking ideas from? I've never even heard of most of things you've made."

"Most recipes were from my mother," he shrugged. "Some I copied from restaurants from the _Vieux Carré_."

Her face scrunched at the unfamiliar words. " _Vieux...Carré_ ," she asked.

His heart stuttered. Oh, she was definitely butchering the pronunciation, but the warmth had now come back full force. He thoroughly enjoyed hearing her attempt at speaking French.

"It translates to 'Old Square'," he explained. "More modernly known as the French Quarter."

She smiled apologetically. "I have absolutely no idea where that is. I've never been anywhere but Hell."

He laughed loudly. "And what a shame that is! You've truly missed out on some fantastic things." He sighed nostalgically as he leaned his chair back until it teetered on just two legs. "The night life. The food. And such wonderful music. You would've adored Louisiana!"

She inched forward, as much as the table would allow, with interest. "That's where you're from?"

"Yes, New Orleans," he replied.

He tapped his now empty plate until it faded before their eyes. Once it did so, he leaned forward until he was inches from her face. This was nothing new, his lack of personal space. But for some reason she felt her face heat up at the close proximity. He grinned at her, as if waiting for something. Then, she heard a clinking noise. She looked down to see his sharp finger tapping against her own plate. After taking too long of a second to realize what he was asking permission to do, she nodded dumbly.

After her plate had disappeared, he sat back in his chair again. "And where are you from?"

Charlie shook her head in an attempt to clear away the daze. Then, she scrunched her eyebrows, extremely confused. "Uh…Hell, remember? You know that."

He shook his head. "But what part? Hell is just a bit bigger than most sinners realize. Certainly you haven't lived in the Hotel all your life."

"No, definitely not," she chuckled. "Um, well, it wasn't much. A big mansion – Okay, well I guess that is a lot. Um…Well, what I mean is, that there wasn't a lot in it. It was such a huge house, and it was definitely livable, but there wasn't a whole lot of furniture, or knickknacks, or anything like that. It was pretty empty inside…In so many different ways…" She trailed off, her attention drifting away from his face to frown at the table. Realizing where her emotions were going, she abruptly straightened up. "Never mind," she said quickly as she put her elbows on the table and her chin in her hands. "I'm probably boring you. It's just…"

She paused to look at him again. There was no boredom in his eyes and no annoyance in his smile. He seemed perfectly at ease.

"No one's ever asked me that before," she finished. "Not even…" _Vaggie_.

His smile twitched a little wider. "Then by all means, you should continue."

"Really," she asked, her smile slowly returning. "Okay, but there's not much else. The mansion is a couple miles south from the Hotel. It's in the center of a field, so it has its own property, which is unique. For Hell, that is. But there wasn't much for me to do there, so eventually I kinda went further into the city and started doing my own things." She shrugged. "That's it, I guess. Definitely not as exciting as where you used to live."

"Oh," he asked with a grin. "Hell isn't exciting enough for you?"

She rolled her eyes lightly. "Well, when you put it that way…"

They laughed at each other; Charlie laughing at his teasing undertone, and Alastor laughing at her sarcasm.

They lapsed into a silence. Alastor was sitting further back against his chair as he continued to gaze at her. Charlie watched him even though he wasn't doing anything remotely worth watching. He just seemed so content.

"Thanks," Charlie murmured after a moment. "I really needed this."

He tilted his head. "Needed what?"

"Just…" She used her hands to gesture haphazardly between the both of them. "…This."

He nodded once as he smirked. "Eloquently put."

She scowled playfully. "Yeah, yeah, yeah."

It was at that moment the door swung open. "No offense, hon," Vaggie huffed as she sat down beside her. "But you couldn't have specified which hallway? It took me way too long to get here."

"Oh," Charlie cringed. "Sorry. It's been a weird morning and-"

She stopped herself, realizing that she had nearly forgotten why she'd wanted the three of them to gather here in the first place. She'd been so preoccupied with swapping stories with Alastor. On the one hand, she was ashamed at herself for forgetting something so pertinent. On the other…She felt significantly lighter, like a pressure had lifted and she could now think clearly.

"Wow," she muttered out loud. "I guess I really did need this. Well, anyway," she began quickly, so as not to waste any more of Alastor and Vaggie's time. "Niffty found a bunch of broken glass from one of the fifth floor windows. It looked like somebody broke in. Probably during the night while we were all asleep."

"Ugh, that sucks," Vaggie muttered.

"Quite," Alastor agreed with a nod and a contemplative scowl. "To break in when there are six of us living here, all on different floors and rooms, is quite a feat."

"I want us all to collaborate," Charlie said, folding her arms on the table. "What can we come up with to prevent this from happening again?"

"No offense, Charlie," Vaggie frowned. "But demons'll do whatever they want. It's probably gonna happen again."

"More than likely," she sighed. "So we can't prevent it from happening, but what if we just kept an eye on things? We could have one or two of us – any one of us – do night shifts here and there to keep an eye an out for anything suspicious."

Vaggie hummed. "That's not a bad idea. Actually, I wouldn't mind doing that most nights. I haven't been getting a whole lot of sleep lately."

Charlie's brows furrowed. "Everything okay?"

Vaggie looked away from her. "You know me. My sleep schedule has always been a mess." Her frown lightened a little when she chuckled. "It'd give me an excuse to use my spear on any poor bastard who tried something."

Charlie smiled at her co-owners. "So, night shifts is, then? Obviously, we don't want Vaggie carrying this every night, so we'd have to choose another person, too."

"Actually," Alastor said with a proud grin. "I have a thought. An idea that might be better for everyone, not just us."

Vaggie shook her head at him. "The night shift idea is good and simple enough."

Alastor didn't comment to that. Instead, he pointed at his shoulder.

A black mass materialized behind him until it formed into a lanky figure. The shadow appeared to have long antlers and pointy ears. At the corners of its mouth were little lines, like suture scars. Most striking was that it had a wicked open smile that curled and stretched all the way to its forehead. The shadow gripped Alastor's shoulders and leaned over him as it grinned menacingly at the two women.

Cringing in fear, Vaggie sat as far back in her chair as possible, while Charlie stared at it with a mixture of horror and curiosity.

"I have many others like it," Alastor said. He twitched a finger at the shadow's face. Its grin disappeared to form a petulant frown. Then, its arms and head twitched as if emitting a sigh. It faded away just as quickly as it had appeared. "As you can see, it was very eager to actually do something for once. My shadows haven't been entertained in many years. They don't need sleep nor require any breaks. I'm sure they'd quite enjoy playing with any unwelcomed guests."

Vaggie glared at him. "So we'd have a shit-ton of shadows in our way. Super. That won't scare any potential clients away at all."

He laughed at Vaggie. "Such little faith in me. My shadows are perfect at staying out of sight and out of mind. They can do their job so discreetly you would never realize they were here."

Vaggie's glare didn't waver. "Which means they can torment anyone. How will they differentiate between who's a threat and who isn't?"

He clicked his tongue, as if scolding an errant child. "They are much more intelligent than that. They have to be if they're doing my bidding," he ended with a chuckle. He looked at Charlie. "However, the Hotel owner does have the final say."

Charlie glanced between Vaggie and Alastor. She most certainly wasn't thrilled at feeling like she was being put on the spot, but she had to choose. Both ideas were good ones, but…

She winced apologetically at Vaggie. "I'm sorry, but-"

Vaggie rolled her eyes. "You really trust his shadows?"

"Yes. Look, I'm not saying that you doing night shifts is a bad idea. I still like that idea and feel we can at least use it as a Plan B just in case. But doing this is going to be the most practical thing. Not only will none of us lose any sleep, but we've seen how many shadows he has, which means they can be in many places at once." She looked at Alastor. "And so long as they don't scare away any guests, this could work really well."

Alastor nodded once. "You have my word."

"Really," Vaggie grumbled sarcastically. "Don't tell me you're trusting his word, too?"

"Yes." That answer was instant, as if she hadn't even thought it over. Which she hadn't, because there was no reason to. She trusted Alastor, as well as the shadows he manipulated. She had no reason to doubt him. Simple as that.

Vaggie's eyes widened by a fraction at how abrupt and confident that single word sounded.

Charlie cleared her throat, losing some of her boldness at the hurt that flashed across Vaggie's face. "This…This will work. I know it will." She placed her hand on Vaggie's shoulder, and she was startled by how the muscles tensed under her fingers. Vaggie didn't seem to notice this as she shook her head and glared at the floor.

"Well, that's settled then," Alastor said with enthusiasm as he elegantly stood up. He began sauntering towards the door. "I'll go tell them the good news. I haven't given them free roam in decades. Oh, how happy it'll make them!"

"Do you need any help," Charlie offered, though she didn't quite know what she could do in this instance. Still, it was the polite thing to say.

"I'm sure I can handle this one," he grinned at her. "You do as you like, my dear, and don't worry about a thing." As he opened the door, he looked back at her once more. "Perhaps you ought to consider taking the day for yourself. There isn't much to do, considering I'm doing most of the work right now." He laughed with a jesting undertone that meant he was most certainly not inconvenienced by any of this. 

He was having a marvelous morning.

He had managed to successfully distract a worrying Charlie from her work duties over breakfast, though brief a distraction it was. And now he was thrilled at having the opportunity to command his underlings.

He was on a roll today.

\-------

Alastor arrived at a quiet and peaceful part of the Hotel. He was all too happy to break that silence to create a little chaos, despite how subdued the intention would be.

He stood in the center of the empty hotel room. Palm up, he raised his arm. With an anticipatory smirk, he moved the tips of his fingers only once, a quick beckoning motion.

From behind the curtains, under the carpet, out of the cracks in the walls, from nearly every corner shadows slithered in at breakneck speed, obedient and eager to be summoned.

Alastor spread his arms out to gesture to all of them at once. "Good morning to you, too, my pets. I don't suppose any of you would consider doing a job for me?"

The shadows howled delightedly. Winding and stumbling over each other in and effort to get closer, they all crowded around Alastor, almost smothering him.

He grinned at their antics. "That's what I thought." He twitched his index finger slightly. At once, the shadows backed up, giving him some space. He paced around the room, passing by each shadow. "Your new purpose will be to guard this hotel from pests."

The shadows flashed each other immoral grins as they hissed.

"Oh, yes," he continued. "I can only imagine the fun you'll have, given your…creativity. But there is a catch."

Immediately, the shadows frowned at each other, knowing all too well how much of a deal-maker their master was.

"Oh, come now. Smile," he encouraged. "It's not that bad. I trust that you'll have enough sense to know who's a threat and who isn't?"

Hesitantly, not wanting to disappoint him, the shadows nodded once.

He smirked at them, not knowing how they'll take to this next part. "And I also trust that you'll take orders from me, as always?" Automatically, loyally, the shadows grinned and nodded a couple times. His smirk grew. "As well as Miss Charlie?"

The shadows' heads tilted back as if whiplashed. This was certainly new to them. They had been obedient to Alastor and _only_ Alastor for so many decades. They couldn't even remember a time where they hadn't served him. Add to that, he was a very selfish being. Not once had he ever shared power with anyone.

Alastor sighed dramatically in disappointment. "Then I'm afraid you'll just have to crawl back into the recesses from whence you came. And I had such high hopes." He held up his hand for all the shadows to see. Black material swirled around, dancing over his wrist and fingertips until settling in his palm. The shadows cringed, as it looked like tiny versions of themselves. "Perhaps I'll just have to find more…" His fingers snapped closed like an iron trap. "suiting subjects," he finished cruelly. Slowly, in no hurry, he opened his fingers, and the tiny shadows fell to the floor like shreds of paper.

All of the shadows watched this in horror as they exchanged desperate glances with each other.

"Or…" He countered. "Perhaps you'll reconsider your hesitation. I certainly hope you do so. You'll have great fun doing what you do best. Ah, and Charlie. She's such a wonderful creature. I'm sure you'll become fast friends."

His trickery with the shadows in the palm of his hand wasn't a threat because they had defied orders. It was a threat because Alastor was _intent_ on them following orders. It reminded them of their place. And they were happy for that reminder. Slowly, grins reappeared around the room. Their eagerness to finally have some fun outweighed the jarring change in what was normal.

They gathered around him once more, and they bobbed their heads at him once with deference.

"How excellent," Alastor cheered. "I knew you'd come through for me. I do so love it when we compromise. Now," he said as he jutted his chin at the door. The door opened slowly on its own. "Do as you're told. Oh, and do be discreet. You are a rather unsightly lot."

So quick that even Alastor couldn't keep up with their movements, his shadows sped out the door to scatter throughout the Hotel, more than ready to do as bade.

Chuckling to himself, he clapped his hands together to dust off the excess shadow imitations. And for good measure, to clean up the mess, he placed the toe of his boot over the shreds on the floor and crushed them until they disappeared.

"You done showing off to Charlie," an annoyed voice asked.

He sighed with mild irritation as he turned. Vaggie was leaning against the doorway.

"There isn't any harm in showing off if there's practicality to it." He laughed and shook his head. "And it isn't showing off if said demon isn't even around to see it. Hmm?"

Vaggie rolled her eyes. "You're already in Charlie's good books. So why keep going?"

He tilted his head. His ever-present smirk was still there, of course, but he couldn't deny he was slightly confused at her words. "I'm afraid I don't know what you mean."

"She's letting you use your shadows. You may as well have taken over the Hotel at this point."

"Correct me if I'm wrong," Alastor said as he tapped his chin. "But the Hotel is rather devoid of life, aside from the six of us that is. There is hardly anything here to take over. And last I checked…" He walked over until he was towering over her. "Charlie owns the Hotel. Not me."

"You're a co-owner," she remarked with a growl in her voice. "So with you, there's probably no difference." Though she was definitely intimidated by how close he was, she leaned in. "This hotel means everything to Charlie. And she means everything to me. I won't just sit here and…"

He stopped listening to her, feeling things click in to place. Oh, her aggravation and defensiveness have certainly gotten on his nerves by this point, and he would feel absolute joy at siccing his shadows on her. However, this wasn't just Vaggie being threatened by his presence, though that was certainly a factor.

He laughed loudly to interrupt her ranting. "My dear, I'm afraid you're very misguided. I see where you're going with your logic, but you have to know how foolish you sound. I understand why you believe I have ill-intentions. I would call you foolhardy if you weren't even somewhat cautious. But rest assured, I am simply doing my job. Now, if you'll excuse me." Without touching her, as she moved on her own, he waltzed past her out the door.

"Hey," she snapped. "You didn't even hear a single word I just-"

Quick as a flash, he spun around, his face mere inches from hers. "Do not make the mistake of thinking you're the only who cares about her." He pulled back, enjoying the sheer bewilderment on her face. "I have no other motive."

Without waiting to see any further reaction, he walked away.

It wasn't a slip of the tongue. He was surprisingly proud to have admitted that out loud. However, he absolutely despised that Vaggie, of all demons, was the first soul to hear it.

Maybe his dear Charlie ought to hear it next.

Soon, perhaps.


	6. A Day For Yourself or For Two?

" _Perhaps you ought to consider taking the day for yourself_."

Charlie didn't intend to follow Alastor's advice.

She had gone back to her room, got out her laptop, and brought up her notes for the Hotel. She wanted to go over them for what felt like the hundredth time, to see if there was anything to add details to or to come up with new ideas for their next meeting. However, as soon as her documents appeared on screen, her mind blanked.

This threw her a little. Normally, she poured her heart and soul into these notes like no tomorrow. This hotel was her passion and she loved everything about it, including the tediousness of having to take notes of things. Though this time as she stared at the screen, she felt overwhelmed, as if it were material for a test and her brain was already fried before even studying.

When she closed the laptop and set it on her nightstand she wasn't quite sure what to do next, until she remembered Alastor's words. If she couldn't even process some simple notes, maybe she really did need the day off.

She blew out a puff of air. Then, she flopped backwards on her bed and closed her eyes. Over half an hour passed before she realized she wasn't getting any sleep. She didn't need it, but she at least attempted. Wasn't that what people did when they had nothing to look forward to for the rest of the day? Sleep in?

Well, what else did people do? Charlie had been a workaholic on so many different projects throughout the years that she felt like she was at a loss here. Hmm…

She was definitely bored, and hanging out with other people always cured her boredom. With a wide smile, she jumped off the bed, hoping Vaggie was up and about by now, as she had gone back to bed after the meeting.

When she arrived at Vaggie's door for the second time that day, she knocked lightly, hoping that she wasn't disturbing her. When there was no answer, she tried again, a little louder.

"Hey, Vaggie," she called hesitantly. She put her ear up to the door, trying to hear if she was even in there, or perhaps she'd woken up and gone to a different part of the Hotel. There was definitely soft snoring that she could hear.

Charlie stepped backwards and frowned. Vaggie never snored unless she was really feeling exhausted. This meant that she wouldn't be up for possibly the better part of the day. Vaggie wouldn't mind Charlie coming into her room while she slept, but Charlie didn't want to do this. As much as she wanted to cuddle up with her like they used to in the afternoons when Vaggie slept late, she didn't want to disturb her. When she told her she hadn't been getting much sleep lately, and then tensing up the way she did, Charlie didn't exactly know if Vaggie wanted her company at all.

Erring on the side of caution, she left Vaggie's hallway with a despondent sigh. It had been quite a while since they'd had alone time. When Charlie caught on to how much she'd really been working, she immediately tried to find time for her every chance she got. She knew she wasn't perfect in this regard and that it was easy for her to go back into work mode. Vaggie seemed to sense this. Knowing how passionate Charlie was about the Hotel, she occasionally gave her space. Charlie didn't want space, though. She wanted to hang out with her girlfriend and work on things together.

As time passed, compromise was becoming more and more like a pipe dream. Knowing this, Charlie vowed that once things were more settled with the Hotel, they'd spend more time together. No worrying about ideas, schedules, new clients, or fellow employees. No worrying about work at all. She wished the lack of worrying would happen sooner. She didn't like how distant she and Vaggie had become towards each other recently. 

Charlie frowned at her own thoughts as she made her way towards one of the exits. It would probably do her good to get some fresh air. She didn't necessarily want to leave given she was still in a social mood, but the only other people in the Hotel were either too busy or sleeping in.

Then, she remembered that Alastor was probably still around today. Her stride didn't falter, though, because her optimism faded as quickly as it came. He'd probably gone back to bed, too. If he hadn't, he was probably still giving his shadows their orders, and he did say he didn't need help with that.

"Oh, well," she sighed as she approached a side entrance. The rusty door handle creaked stiffly as she turned it. When she stepped outside, the door hinges protested as it shut behind her. She patted her pockets, searching for a notepad to write down that the entire door pretty much needed replaced, but with all that had happened this morning she had forgotten to grab one.

"I'll remember later," she sighed again as she walked away. She probably wouldn't remember, and she hated feeling disorganized, but she was determined to take Alastor's advice of leaving work behind for the day. It was just next to impossible to get into that mindset.

The cobblestones that surrounded the outside of the Hotel eventually faded into the surrounding sidewalks. The concrete echoed under her shoes as she took a stroll through that area of Pentagram City. She had no real destination in mind and she wasn't even sure what she was going to do with her free day. Normally, by this point, she'd ask Vaggie for a lunch date, but that obviously wasn't an option right now.

Out of habit, she looked down to ask Razzle and Dazzle if they wanted ice cream or something fried. The two goat demons had an almost gluttonous obsession with food, and it always made her chuckle to see their enthusiasm. Of course, they weren't there. She hadn't seen them in months. They had coincidentally disappeared shortly after the news interview with her parents.

"Huh," she muttered to herself, not feeling…anything. Or at least she didn't think she felt anything. She was definitely tense and her teeth were grinding together, but her mind was…neutral. Almost tired. She rubbed at her arms, hugging herself, unsure of what to make of this development with her emotions. She certainly didn't have the energy to fight how confusing it felt. And it sure as shit was confusing.

Some ways down the street was a little mobile food stand. The street corner near the Pot Shop was where it was usually set up, as most people that frequented that shop always had a case of the munchies. As a result, there was always plenty of good and high quality food being sold there.

When she arrived at the stand, the demon running it greeted her with a reluctant half-smile. This demon was never thrilled to see her and he never liked how chipper she was, but she always tipped well, so he tolerated her presence.

"The usual," he asked around his cigar as he opened up his cart. He raised a brow when he looked at the ground. "No lackeys today?"

"No," she said as she got out her wallet.

He grunted a noncommittal reply as he handed her a scoop of strawberry ice cream. "I can put some stuff together for 'em. Ain't never seen no one put away food like them two."

Charlie winced as she handed him a couple dollars. "That's…not necessary."

"O…kay," he looked at her funnily as he took the money. Strange, she was normally more bright and talkative than this. Eh, whatever. He waved the money at her. "I take it I'm keeping the change?"

"No," she shook her head. "I need the change this time."

When she said this, he crushed the money in his hands as he glared at her. Seeing his anger, Charlie almost meekly relented. Given that her mind was still in the same confusing state it was before approaching the stand, she was just too tired to deal with any strife right now. However, she already felt guilty using what was left of her money for something as insignificant as ice cream when she should be saving every last bit of it for the Hotel.

She frowned at him. "Look, I know I don't normally ask for the change back, but…Please?"

He grumbled a string of unintelligible curses under his breath, the nauseating smoke from his cigar bombarding her face as he did so. "Fucking whatever," he snarled as he pulled out a register tray. He yanked out a few random bills and coins and shoved it at her. "Here. That should be enough. Go nuts."

"Thanks," Charlie said with a weak smile as she put the change in her pocket, though the amount given back to her was clearly scant.

"Yeah, yeah." Another cloud of smoke hit her. "Now go someplace else."

Coughing and waving at the air around her, she nodded politely and walked away.

She was relieved the demon at the food stand didn't seem to know about the news cast, or she was at least thankful he didn't comment. As she walked down the street, cone in hand, she passed a few demons that scowled and snickered at her, most likely for that reason. Any other time, she would be losing her mind with grief, but right now she just felt…What was the right word? Empty? Detached? She wasn't sure. All she knew was that she wasn't having any dramatic reaction.

That was good. Right?

She shrugged uncertainly to herself, taking another lick of her ice cream as she went further through the city.

If it were night time, Pentagram City would be bustling, with horns honking, sinners heckling each other, shady deals being exchanged in alleys and street corners, and other things like that.

The afternoons were often pretty quiet, which was perfect for her. Less demons out and about, and she could enjoy a little peace, despite occasionally coming across sneering demons as she passed.

There was a green space just outside a café her and Vaggie frequented. Er, used to. They actually hadn't eaten there in quite a few weeks. And it couldn't necessarily be called a green space as the grass was dry and in a permanent state of dying, but it was a nice little peaceful spot all the same.

She sat down and stared up at the dark red sky as she ate at the last of her melting ice cream. There wasn't much to see up there. Black clouds, an outline of a large pentagram, and that was it. She'd heard of other things that should be in the sky, such as shades of blues and pinks, the sun, the moon, the stars, and rainbows.

" _The night life. The food. And such wonderful music. You would've adored Louisiana!_ "

Charlie wondered just how much Alastor had seen when he was alive. Was the sky really as bright during the day as the books depicted? How dark was the night? Were the food and music really as wonderful as he said it was?

She chewed at the cone now that the ice cream was all gone. These days, her mind always seemed to drift to Alastor, as if only the thought of him was enough to comfort her. Goodness knows his presence was. Every time she'd interacted with Alastor it had been wonderful, even with his bluntness and lack of personal space.

Aside from the fact that he never failed to make her laugh, he also had this alarming talent of being able to distract her. There were so many instances where she was going to approach him about work-related things, only for him to greet her as if he hadn't seen her in ages. He would ask her how she was doing, maybe even ask her to sample some of his food, and ask her about her plans for the day. When the formalities were out of the way, Charlie always felt disoriented for a split second before diving in to what she needed to talk to him about. Disoriented in a good way.

On the flipside of that, he was never afraid to talk about work. One minute he was indulging her ideas and schemes, another minute he was contradicting her and suggesting his own thoughts. This made her happy for so many different reasons. One, someone was genuinely taking an interest in what she was doing. Two, because of this, she never felt like a burden around him.

Charlie swallowed the last bit of the cone as she realized something quite obvious.

She'd been struggling these last few months.

And Alastor was a breath of fresh air that she didn't realize she even needed.

She had absolutely no idea what do with that realization. She had never met anyone that was able to keep her so balanced and levelheaded.

Immediately, she felt ashamed. Why couldn't she think the same of Vaggie? Well, okay, of course Vaggie had kept her grounded for a couple years now. And Charlie hoped Vaggie knew that she didn't take her for granted at all. But something was changing between them. She didn't quite know what to make of it, and neither did Vaggie it seemed.

There currently weren't too many days where Vaggie and Charlie sought each other out. They could both sense when the other wanted space, wanted some silence, or simply wanted to interact with other people. They knew each other so well that they silently understood what the other was feeling and what they needed. That should've been comforting, to know one's significant other in that regard.

This only made her feel extremely lonely. What was she to do? Pester Vaggie about it? Vaggie acted like she barely wanted to see her these days. Which couldn't be what was truly going on, but Charlie didn't want to push her. Vaggie would only become more closed off if she did. She had to give her space. But…

She glanced around at the empty green space, still feeling quite lonely.

It was now getting late. She...supposed it couldn't hurt to ask if Alastor was doing anything else for the rest of the day.

She stood up and dusted off her pants. She wasn't interested in bothering him too much. She just wanted to see if he was up for company. If not, she would take her leave, no questions asked.

When she got back to the Hotel, it was early evening, and the sky had darkened significantly. She had done a large loop around that part of the city, and had now found herself nearing the main entrance of the Hotel. Before she could walk around to a different part of the building, the front doors opened.

She stood there for a few seconds, waiting to see who would come out. Only, no one did. It looked like they had opened on their own.

She frowned as she walked towards the doors. Great, now it looked like the front doors needed replacing as well. Resisting the urge to look inside the foyer, she grabbed the door handles, stepped further outside, and shut the doors. She played around with the handles and latches, but they seemed to work just fine.

She cried out in surprise when a black mass slithered out from beneath the door. It stood before her, its wicked smile inches from her face. Its body was long like a snake, and it had pins sticking out of where its eyes should be.

"Uh, hi," she greeted awkwardly with a small, kind smile. "I'm Charlie." She held out her hand, and the shadow stared at is if it'd never seen one before. Seeing the bafflement on its face, she dropped it. "I'm sorry. You probably can't even shake my hand. Shadow, and all. Um, can you?"

It stared at her. This was the demon they were supposed to take orders from? She seemed so…nice. What was their master thinking?

Still, the shadow had orders. It pointed its finger at the front door, which once again opened on its own.

"Thank you," she said. "Really. But I'm taking another entrance into the Hotel. But that's really nice of you."

The doors slammed closed when it grimaced at her in response.

"And thank you, again, by the way, for helping out. This hotel means a lot to me, and I'm glad that Alastor sees that."

Its only response was to stare at her – as much as it was able to given the lack of eyes. Then, it dipped backwards and slithered back beneath the door. Then, Charlie caught a glimpse of something black swirling around the keyhole. The blackness disappeared when she heard the familiar _clunk_ of the lock. She smiled, appreciating how serious the shadows were already taking their job. 

She hadn't wanted to go through the front entrance for…a variety of reasons, which is why she was trying to find a different entrance. She could've gone through the one she'd used before, but she wanted to see if there were any others. There were still times where she found something new about the Hotel, and it always gave her a little thrill, even something as simple as a door.

And she found one. She could see through the windows that it was an entrance into a mudroom. She reached for the doorknob as she got her key out of her pocket. That's when the lock clicked, the knob turned, and the door swung open.

"Okay," she muttered as she stepped inside. "I guess I don't need my key anymore. That is gonna take some getting used to. Thank you," she said as she closed the door behind her. The sound of the lock clicking back into place was the only response she received.

She took a moment to look around. There was a standard coat rack, boot tray, a cushioned bench, and a myriad of abandoned shoes and boots shoved off to the side. With the large windows presenting a full view of the sky, it was a quaint little room.

She smiled, happy she found it. She always looking for peaceful little nooks like this for when she was by herself and planning things on her laptop. She would definitely come back to this.

She reentered the Hotel, and her smile grew. Seeing the carpeted walls and floors, the apple designs on the stained glass windows, and the dark lighting was a welcomed sight.

"Ugh," she grunted lightly to herself, still smiling. "Get it together, Charlie. It's just a hotel." It wasn't just a hotel to her though. It was home. For her and for her friends. Even if there were no redemption seekers, even if there were no new clients, she was proud of the Happy - er…Hazbin Hotel.

She chuckled. She remembered when she politely asked Alastor change it back. His response? "My dear, do you think any sinner is going to give a hotel named 'Happy' a second glance? Besides, this title has a better ring to it, does it not?" Sometimes she hated his logic, while thoroughly understanding and appreciating it at the same time. What an odd combo.

She arrived at Alastor's bedroom, gave it a knock, but received no answer. She didn't even hear music coming from his gramophone, which was odd given that he normally played it well into the evening.

"He's not here," Niffty said as she came into view, her arms full of carpentry tools.

"Seems like it," Charlie said with a slight frown.

"I fixed the window."

Charlie's brows scrunched. "Is that why you have all that stuff? I told you, you didn't have to worry about it. I-" She stopped herself with a groan. "Ugh, I could've gotten supplies while I was out just now. Why didn't I think of that?"

Niffty only tilted her head and shrugged. "It's no big deal. You know me. When I'm not cleaning things, I'm fixing things. It's all in the name, after all!"

Charlie rubbed the back of her neck, upset with herself that Niffty felt the need to do all that.

"If it makes you feel any better," Niffty said. "It's not as pretty as what it was before. No stained glass. Just a regular window. No sweat, no fuss."

"I guess," Charlie sighed and shrugged. "Are you sure you were okay with it?"

"Mhm," she nodded as she started walking away. "You and Alastor would be the first to know if I wasn't okay about things." Before she got out of sight, she pointed at the ceiling. "Fifth floor," was all she said before she disappeared.

Charlie stared after her in slight confusion before she turned in the direction of the stairs. Why did Niffty want her to go back to the fifth floor? Maybe it was to see the new window, to get her seal of approval? But Niffty was always too proud of her work to seek approval from others.

On top of it all, like Niffty said, there was nothing extravagant about the new window. It was clear, sat perfectly in its frame, and no one would've guessed that high quality stained glass was there before. Charlie stared at the window, trying to figure out what Niffty meant by the fifth floor.

That's when she heard it. The familiar, soothing, scratchy hum of Alastor's gramophone. Her feet were already moving in its direction, to which she didn't fight. She was looking forward to seeing Alastor this evening. Unfortunately, she was most definitely not looking forward to where he was currently spending his time.

She once again found herself in front of the office with the safe. That's where the music was coming from.

"What," she whispered confusedly as she reached for the doorknob. Then, she remembered her manners, and knocked.

"Good afternoon, my dear," Alastor greeted with a wide smile when he opened the door. "I should've guessed you wouldn't have heeded my advice on taking the day off. By all means, come right on in."

It was no longer the afternoon. It was evening.

She had taken his advice.

And she wanted to take his advice further by hanging out with him.

Except, none of those points came to mind at all.

"What are you doing here," she asked.

Alastor tilted his slightly at hearing the lack of emotion in her voice. "I've been searching for a place just as private as my bedroom. When I saw Niffty cleaning this space, I jumped at the opportunity." He looked over his shoulder to glance around the room. "No one has touched it in goodness knows how long. Well, not including the break-in, that is. I thought it perfect, wouldn't you say?"

"It was supposed be an office for my parents."

That was why the safe was in there. That was why the room itself was empty in the first place. She always anticipated her parents at least visiting the Hotel at some point. And her parents, specifically her father, enjoyed little areas like this, places where he felt like he could get his work done. Everything, including the safe, was empty so that her parents could feel like they could do whatever they wanted with the room.

Alastor stared at her face for probably an improper amount of time. She was just so expressive. Mind, her face and her posture were completely emotionless, like a statue. Which wasn't at all normal for her. Yet, her eyes were saying something different, absolutely swimming with emotion and conflict, as if she didn't know what to do or how to act next. A simple office did this to her, as did a simple break-in. And he knew the reason why.

"And I'm sure your parents would've loved it," he said in response to her statement. "But if you don't mind, I'm quite taken with it. It's such a cozy little niche. Certainly nothing to run from."

His words suddenly shattered through her mind like the stained glass window that used to be down the hall. "What," she asked, almost breathless and not knowing how in the hell to respond to what he just said. Did she even hear that right? Had he even been talking?

He opened the door wider and stepped aside. "I said it's such a cozy little niche. Would you like to take a look?"

Mechanically, still reeling from the trick her mind had just played on her, she stepped inside. She shouldn't have. She shouldn't want to set one foot in there, not with what it meant to her.

It was Alastor that won her over. His smile, the sweeping gesture of his arm, his hand that found the small of her back – guiding, not pushing – as she entered. Her anxiety was still there, but she felt no hesitation slowly going forward. Her trust for Alastor was something she no longer had to think about.

He had thrown out everything. There was no longer a wooden desk, computer chair, frayed carpet, layer of dust, or the old safe. Instead, the floor was now hardwood, and there was now a large coffee table at the center of the room, the gramophone sitting directly in the middle. Surrounding the table were two comfy chairs that flanked an old Chippendale sofa. Lastly, along the walls were shelves filled with books and vinyl.

It no longer looked like an empty, dusty office, but a livable and pleasant little study. Charlie couldn't stop looking around.

"Well," Alastor asked.

"Huh," she asked as she spun slightly to look at him.

"I simply asked if it meets your approval," he said. "It did belong to your parents and all."

She shook her head stubbornly. "No, it didn't. I mean...It was going to…But…" She sighed. After a moment, a tiny smile appeared on her face. "I'm okay with this."

"Excellent! I hoped you would. Now," he continued. His hand slid away from her back – how long had he kept it there? – and he went over to one of the chairs. "Have a seat. What is it that you wanted to discuss?"

"Oh," she said as she sat down on the other chair. "Nothing to discuss. I just…wanted to see if you were busy at all." She looked around for what felt like the hundredth time. "And it looks like you have been. Did you work all afternoon on this?"

"Is the afternoon gone already," he asked. "My, how time flies!"

"I'll say," she chuckled. "It felt like I was only out for a few minutes. Next thing I know, the sky's getting darker." She paused. "Anyway, I took your advice. I had most of the day to myself after our meeting."

His face lit up. "Why, that's splendid! Did you have a nice time?"

"Sort of. Went out for some ice cream, sat in the grass for a while. Oh, I met one of your shadows. They're doing a great job, it seems."

"I should hope so. I threatened them to do so." He laughed. "Anyway, I trust it was courteous with you."

She shrugged. "Courteous enough, I guess."

He nodded. "That's to be expected. They're not accustomed to taking orders from anyone but me. They'll get used to you soon enough."

She tilted her head. "Taking orders? From me?"

"Of course," he said. "This hotel belongs to you. Therefore, it is only fitting they behave as such. So," he said as he reclined back a little to get comfortable. "If you're not here to discuss business, then what are you here for?"

"Well." She fidgeted her thumb over the tips of her fingers, suddenly feeling a little self-conscious, as if the situation was improper. "I was just wondering…if you wanted to…hang out?"

He nodded at her, silently asking her to go on.

Charlie looked at him funnily, not understanding what more he was waiting for. So, she tried to elaborate. "Because, it's been an okay day, by myself that is. But I wished I was hanging out with someone. I knew you were busy with your shadows, but some time passed and I thought…Maybe you now had some free time? I was just…lonely, I guess."

As if he'd been shocked, he quickly straightened. "And you want to cure your loneliness with me? Goodness! Are you unwell, my dear?"

She smirked slightly at his teasing tone. "I am perfectly fine. And why not?"

He leaned forward, until his elbow was resting on his knee and his chin in his hand. "Have you forgotten who I am?"

She narrowed her eyes at him, her turn to silently ask him to continue.

He smirked wickedly at her. "I was in Hell for less than a few hours before I was crushing overlords under my boots. I cruelly broadcasted everything I was doing so every sinner would know who I was and what I was capable of. Mind, the name 'Radio Demon' would not have been my first choice, but it got the message across loud and clear." He shook his head and tsked. "And you want to share your company with me."

Charlie's eyes were still stubbornly narrowed. "Yes."

Neither moved. They weren't daring the other to blink, and nor were they threatening each other. Their staring contest held no malice, just curiosity and contemplation.

Alastor was the first to move. He leaned back again as he chuckled under his breath, so much so that his shoulders shook. "The more my existence carries on, the more I think that I cannot be surprised. And then there's you."

"Me?"

"Yes, you," he repeated. "Very well, then," he carried on with a nod. "I wholeheartedly accept your company."

On that note, he elegantly stood up and went over to one of the bookcases. His fingertips stroked over the spines. When he selected a book, he sat back down.

"Feel free to peruse, as well," he suggested.

"You sure," Charlie said as she stood up.

"Quite," he nodded. "It's my own personal collection. I'm sure you'll find something that catches your interest."

Charlie wasn't much of a bookworm, but she felt it was rude to turn down his offer. "Got anything on the modern side?"

"As in twentieth or twenty-first century," he asked. "I'm afraid I don't have much to offer in that regard."

"That's okay," she shrugged. "I'm sure I'll find something."

Truth be told, she didn't find much, but she did recognize some authors. One of which was an Agatha Christie novel.

"You know," she said as she sat back down. "There's plenty of space in your room for everything that's in here. Why not just have it all in one place?"

"To me, one's living quarters is just that, and nothing more," he explained without looking up from his book. "I still have plenty of books, and I can move my music to wherever I need it, but I don't ever feel the need to spend more time than necessary in there." He gestured to the room with his hand. "This is a nice little getaway for me."

"Yeah," she sighed at the now repurposed office. "Not bad at all." She smiled.

She sat further back against the comfy chair. After curling her legs comfily against her body, she opened her book. As she read, she could feel her senses tuning in to the background drone of his radio static. It wasn't annoying or really even that loud. The ever-present buzz emitting from Alastor was familiar to her now, almost soothing. So much so that she no longer felt interested in the book.

As she set her book aside, she had caught a glimpse of Alastor's face. She nearly dropped the book onto the floor as she did the quickest double-take in her life. Alastor was sitting there, reading his book, smiling contentedly.

Only…Just a split-second ago, she could've sworn that he hadn't been smiling. From what she saw, it wasn't a frown or even a scowl, just…There was no signature smile of his, just a relaxed and neutral expression.

She shook her head rapidly, knowing that she had to have been imagining things, because…Well, she was looking at him now and his smile was still there.

She let her head fall against the backrest to stare at the ceiling. Yes, most definitely imagining things.

Some time passed, until it was completely dark outside. Charlie almost jumped at the loud snap of Alastor's fingers. Lit candles suddenly appeared around them, illuminating the room in a soft glow.

Charlie shifted sideways, until she was curled up on the chair almost like a cat. Between the light of the candles, the sound of radio static, and the overall exhaustion, she felt herself zoning out.

She didn't think that a room originally dedicated to her parents could still bring her any type of happiness. Yet, there she was, thoroughly comfortable to just sit in the center of it. Not to mention her choice of company, and how she should find it extremely abnormal of a situation overall.

She was also normally much livelier than this, wanting to get up and do something productive or spontaneous. It felt very strange to just want to kick back and do nothing. Perhaps she really was feeling overworked.


	7. Staying on Schedule

Niffty enjoyed being in the background. Most people, when they work, want interruptions, social interaction, and a break from the monotony. Not Niffty. She hated being interrupted, hated when someone disrupted her momentum. She only felt accomplished with her work if she had no breaks the entire time. After that, she did as she pleased.

Everyone caught on to how easily irritable the little demon would get, so they often stayed out of her way and didn't initiate interaction, even when she was clearly done working for the day. This suited her just fine. As chatty and hyperactive and extroverted as she was, she always preferred to socialize on her terms and no one else's.

She had favorites, of course.

She thoroughly respected Alastor and wasn't afraid of him whatsoever, even though he was technically her quote-unquote master. Though, that was all a matter of perspective.

She had a huge love-hate relationship with Angel. She thought his sense of humor was hysterical, but his regard for keeping things clean and tidy left much to be desired.

She'd known Husk for quite a few years now, as Alastor often roped the pair of them into his schemes. She had also managed to convince Husk to give her mini booze bottles in exchange for cleaning his bar on the regular. She didn't drink, but she did use them as currency for when she needed to buy cleaning supplies from other demons.

Admittedly, she didn't care too much for Vaggie. She had nothing against her, but she just hadn't interacted with her all that much.

Then came Charlie. Niffty had to admit that she didn't respect Charlie whatsoever at first. A hotel to rehabilitate sinners? A hotel where one would willingly go to seek redemption? A hotel originally named 'Happy Hotel'?! Alastor was right; it was so terribly laughable. Could Charlie not see how much of an uphill battle this was?

Having said that, Niffty got a rare opportunity out of it. She knew she was an intrusive little demon. If she saw something that needed fixed or cleaned, she would take control of the situation out of sheer obsessive impulse. So much so that she expected anyone at anytime to tell her to stop or to not touch something.

From the very beginning, Niffty had been given permission to go full-on balls to the wall and have complete rein over the Hotel's image. No one ever even shooed her away or redirected her someplace else. Everyone silently and collectively agreed that she could pretty much do whatever she pleased. It made her ridiculously happy, as well as overly enthusiastic.

It took an incredibly long time – months, it seemed – for someone to tell her enough was enough.

"Uh, we need to set some boundaries with Al's worker bee," Angel suggested to Charlie one night.

"What," she asked.

"Her," he pointed to Niffty, who was in the middle of meticulously plucking weeds from a dying potted plant. "She has no off switch."

Charlie shrugged and smiled endearingly in the littler demon's direction. "That's Niffty for you, helping whenever she can. And I have seen her take breaks-"

"I don't care if she takes breaks," Angel interrupted. "I don't care if she works herself into a second grave." He sighed irritably. "She cleaned my room."

"Which…she's done before." Charlie scrunched her eyebrows, not sure why this was a problem.

Angel nodded. "Oh, yeah. A little dusting, a little vacuuming. It never hurt anyone. But she needs to tone it down a little, or at least tell me when she's cleaning. Last night was a work night and I couldn't find half of my toys. Still can't find 'em. God knows what she would even do with 'em." He cringed sharply. "Ugh, I don't want that image in my head. And did you know she also organized my glitter?"

Charlie blinked. "How do you organize glitter?"

"I don't know! Ask her! And while you're at it, ask her where all my toys went." With that, he turned on his heel and walked away, leaving Charlie to deal with little demon.

When Niffty was done with the plant, Charlie told her that she needed to be more courteous and more communicative about what she was cleaning and when.

Niffty shook her head in extreme confusion. "But Mister Alastor wanted me to clean!" She threw her hands up in the air. "And _courteous_?! Why are you so nice?!"

Charlie stammered slightly, unsure if she should take that as a compliment, and unsure of how to continue. She opted for addressing the first part of her rant. "Um…You're doing a great job," she assured with a slight smile. "Alastor knew what he was doing when he…employed you. The problem is that, um, demons are protective of their things, and they don't mind having things cleaned, but they also don't like having their things touched."

"That's hypocritical," Niffty whined.

"Maybe, maybe not," Charlie mused. "So, why don't you meet them halfway? Let them know when you're cleaning so that there's no confusion or stress."

Niffty's eye twitched with incomprehension. "But even I don't know when I'm cleaning! It just happens!"

Charlie rubbed her fingertips against her eyes, trying not to get frustrated in her attempt to appease Niffty and, in turn, her cleaning victims. "Okay, listen," she said. "Don't you just hate when you clean, then all of a sudden somebody moves something around that you just organized?"

She tossed her head back in exasperation. "God, yes! Just let things be clean for five minutes, but _no_! They have to make it worse!"

"So, make things easier," she encouraged lightly. "Let certain people know when you're cleaning. This way they don't have any surprises, and you don't get chewed out."

Niffty looked away and tilted her head, and Charlie could practically see the gears turning. Then, she looked at Charlie and shrugged. "It's good advice. I probably won't do that all the time, but it makes sense."

Charlie frowned and sighed. "Well, at least you're honest about it. Just, please at least communicate with Angel Dust. He can't find some of his…" She paused to clear her throat awkwardly. "Work stuff."

Niffty shrugged again as she started walking away. "I put it all in a storage room. Didn't think he'd need 'em. Doesn't he know he doesn't need to work anymore?" She walked away to find said storage room.

She should've been annoyed when Charlie took her aside to talk to her. Instead, it immediately got her attention because of two things. One, Charlie had waited patiently for her to be done with her current task. And two, Charlie was the first person in many weeks to initiate conversation, knowing the risks of doing so, all for some hotel that clearly wasn't going to amount to much. However, Charlie saw worth in it, just as much as Niffty saw worth in her own work.

She decided she would be more communicative, but with Charlie only. She'd gladly gotten in the habit of telling Charlie her cleaning routine and repair projects for each week. She felt like she finally understood her mentality, and Charlie seemed to understand hers.

Niffty was right when she said she wouldn't always take her advice, but that didn't mean she didn't respect it and build off it. She quickly took it upon herself to learn everyone's own routines and schedules, and then she cleaned and organized accordingly. If they wanted her to back off or not clean something, well then, they would just have to grow a pair and tell her. She never considered herself to be unreasonable, just…quirky.

Charlie's schedule was the easiest out of everyone's, and it was the first schedule Niffty had memorized. She was always up and about by mid-morning, and she spent her day wandering around the Hotel, taking notes, musing ideas out loud, checking in with the other employees, and even asking Niffty if she needed help. There was one recent change to her schedule that really stood out, though.

Given Husk's bar was in the Hotel lobby, and given that there were couches, chairs, and barstools near it, it was normal to find any of them hanging out around there as if it were one of the common rooms. For a time, this was clearly one of Charlie's favorite parts of the Hotel. She enjoyed how open it was, and she absolutely loved to put up pictures of herself and her family.

"Don't think you got enough pictures here, kid," Husk rolled his eyes the one day as he watched Charlie bring out another cardboard box full of family photos. "I can still see the walls."

Charlie smirked at him. "I wanna make it feel as welcoming as possible. Like a sense of…community," she said as she hung up a photo depicting her and her father enjoying themselves at a twisted-looking hellish circus.

That was then, though. For some reason, Charlie rarely spent time in the foyer anymore. She almost seemed to avoid it every chance she got. But why?

Niffty tapped her tiny foot impatiently against the floor as she stared around at the foyer. Normally, because Charlie was so active within the Hotel, she would just ask her in passing about what needed cleaning. The foyer definitely needed TLC, but Charlie wasn't anywhere near here, as to now be expected.

With a harsh grumble, Niffty gathered the vacuum and duster into her arms and left the foyer. Putting in the extra time to find the Hotel's owner was going to be a giant setback, by at least an hour probably. Despite how much she respected Charlie now, it thoroughly got on her nerves because she needed her permission to clean all those dusty, sappy photos. Oh, well. She needed to talk to her anyway.

\-------

It was normal for Hell's climate to be rather humid, but today there was a nice, cool breeze.

Charlie was sitting on her balcony, her feet dangling over the edge as the breeze whispered against her. She tucked some of her hair behind her ears as she stared down at the safe in her lap. It could hardly be called a safe, though, given how small it was and that the feeble locking mechanism had broke long ago. It also didn't contain much in the way of valuables.

For quite possibly the dozenth time, Charlie counted each and every dollar bill. When the wind picked up, threatening to send it all flying, she hastily put all the money back in the box. With a disgruntled sigh, she leaned forward until her forehead met one of the wrought iron bars that connected to the balcony railing. She drummed her fingers tensely against the lid of the pathetic safe.

A faint knock coming from her bedroom door caught her attention. She got to her feet. Closing the glass doors behind her, she entered her bedroom. Beneath her bed was a large, ornate rug that took up almost that entire side of the room. She lifted a corner of the rug out of the way and crouched down. After displacing a skinny floorboard, she placed the box into the small recess. She put the board back over it, as well as the rug corner.

There was another knock, this time louder and hastier. She stood up and went to open her bedroom door. Niffty was waiting in the hallway.

"Hey," Charlie greeted. "What's up? You, uh…Do you need help there," she asked, seeing all the cleaning supplies that she was practically bear-hugging.

"Nope," she responded. "I need you to tell me to clean the foyer and all those photos."

Charlie immediately tensed more. "Uh-"

"Because it's filthy," Niffty continued quickly. "One of the filthiest places in the Hotel currently. And that says something. We can't let our front entryway look like a pigsty. If any new clients showed up, they'd walk right out."

Charlie frowned at her. "You don't need my permission to clean the more public spaces of the Hotel."

"Yeah, I do," she nodded. "'Cause all those photos are in my way and they aren't mine and you told me I had to ask permission for things like that which I still think is not necessary but it's your stuff not mine and-"

"Okay, okay," Charlie said, trying to hide the slight huff in her voice. "Yes. You have my permission to do what you need to do."

Niffty sighed dramatically. "Fucking finally! I've had to push all my other chores back by-" She paused to look a clock in the hallway. "Thirty minutes at least."

Charlie smiled slightly. "Hopefully you won't feel that much pressure anymore. Husk had a really interesting joke that I think could actually be useful. If we give everyone, employees and any clients, chore lists then-"

"Husk said that?"

Charlie paused at the interruption. "Well, not directly-"

"Well, that's just great," she snapped as she hiked her supplies higher in her arms and began turning away. "Now I gotta clean up his blood after I kill him. Nobody cleans stuff around here but me. You got that? Oh." She suddenly stopped her tirade and faced Charlie again.

Impressively, she managed to shift her grip around the supplies, and strained to reach into the pocket of her skirt. She pulled out a piece of note paper and awkwardly handed it to Charlie. "List of all the things we need," was her summarization, and then she walked away.

"Uh, wait," Charlie called. "You're not actually gonna kill Husk…Right?" The only response she received was the little demon's receding footsteps.

With a slightly worried frown, she closed the door, but didn't let it latch. Niffty was scrappy, sure, but it was obvious just by looking at him that Husk could take care of himself. Still, Charlie kept her door cracked to listen for any altercations. However, knowing Niffty, she was either bluffing or venting, which was why she didn't worry too much.

She sat down on her computer chair to stare apprehensively at the paper. It wasn't just a couple items, it was a front-to-back endless-looking list of supplies that were needed for the Hotel and for any future residents, as well as some things to use for Charlie's rehabilitation ideas.

She crumpled the paper as she rested her temple against the side of her fist. She always appreciated how detail-oriented Niffty was, but today was not the day for it.

"Fuck," she hissed to herself as she shoved the wrinkled paper in her pocket and stood up. Once again, she moved the rug and board aside. After she got the money out of the safe, she neatly folded the bills and put them in the same pocket as the list. After putting everything back into place, she left her bedroom.

What now remained in her safe could barely be considered substantial. Hell, the demon from the ice cream stand had given her more change than what was currently in there. After Charlie was done running errands and buying the things on the list, anything left in that box would be all that's left of the Hotel's money.

\-------

Alastor rifled through the cupboards of the kitchen, wanting to prepare some ingredients for dinner tonight.

It used to be that he would only cook once a week. What spurred him to do so more often was watching Charlie devour his cooking. It wasn't just her enthusiasm for eating something delicious that he enjoyed, it was also her enthusiasm to talk.

' _What's the dish called? What ingredients did you use? Is this something you ate when you were human?_ ' She could carry a conversation like no other. And he responded to every single question with an air of arrogance and even nostalgia, and also to see her face light up when she learned something new.

He now cooked nearly every day.

His microphone, which was leaning against the butcher block, piped up, and the sound of a whip-crack pierced through the speaker.

He rolled his eyes and waltzed over to it. He turned down the volume, but heard the faint laughter from an audience before it completely silenced.

"Goodness," he scoffed at it. "Such unprofessionalism."

He went back over to the opened cupboard, and was about to make some new spices appear when the kitchen door swung open.

"Hi, Alastor," Niffty waved, her usual smile ever wide as she propped her cleaning supplies against the wall. "I'm cleaning in here. So get out."

Alastor laughed under his breath. It was very rare to see Niffty's apologetic side anymore. He was proud of the little spitfire's assertiveness.

"I hope you're not planning to spend too long in here," Alastor said as he picked up his microphone. "I'm still debating on whether to make a roast or a stew tonight. Either or, they'd both take a decent couple hours." He hummed thoughtfully for a second. "Perhaps you ought to wait until dinner is over and done with, to avoid cleaning in here twice."

Niffty stared at him, her eye twitching agitatedly. Then, she sighed so aggressively that Alastor was half-expecting to see her expel a lung. "What is it with you people today," she griped as she gathered up her stuff. "One minute I'm wasting time asking Charlie for permission for stuff, and now I gotta rearrange my whole schedule. I can't win!"

He set his microphone back down as he watched her beginning to leave. "Oh, I'm sure your tiny, clever brain will adapt to the day's changes just fine," he said with a smile that didn't bother to hide his condescension.

"Actually, you know what," she said, dropping her stuff with an unceremonious clatter. "I'm cleaning in here right now. Perfect time to dust off these empty shelves. What are you even going to cook with?"

He smoothly sidestepped to allow her access to the cabinets. "With whatever I require. You know all too well how easy it is for me to conjure things."

"Hm, I guess," she shrugged as she shimmied onto the countertop to reach the higher places with her duster. "But how're you gonna cook with me in your way," she asked, conversationally and innocently.

"With extreme difficulty," he said with a hard smile. "Can you not pester a different part of the Hotel?"

"Nope," she said. "I'm done with the lobby, so this is next."

He shook his head with ever-so-slight exasperation. "Well, this won't do. We'll just be tripping over each other." He once again picked up his microphone. "I shall be back within the hour. I do expect you to be done by then."

"Ooh, a challenge," she bounced excitedly. She gave him a mock-salute. "I accept." Suddenly, she paused. "No, wait, that wasn't a deal! I wasn't making a deal!" She may not be afraid of him, but she still knew better than to insinuate a deal with him. That is, so as not to add to her debt.

He only laughed loudly at her as he took his leave.

\-------

Charlie was on her way to one of the side entrances when she heard the tapping of shoes and radio static. Smiling, she followed the sound, wanting to ask Alastor if there was anything he needed while she ran errands.

But then, she stopped herself in the middle of the hallway. She barely had any money left now, so if he needed anything and she couldn't even pay for it, well what was the point? By the time she was no longer lost in thought, though, Alastor came around the corner.

"Hello, my dear," he said enthusiastically. "I would say we ought to stop meeting like this, but how boring would that be if I didn't randomly see your face from time to time."

Her face heated up at his words and she looked away slightly to try and hide it. It was actually getting ridiculous how often she blushed around him now. She even blushed in the privacy of her bedroom when she had mysteriously woken up there after spending the evening in Alastor's Study. She didn't even remember falling asleep on that chair, much less how she made it to her bedroom. Alastor must've transported her there, via magic, of course. She highly doubted Alastor would've gone out of his way to carry her there. Still, it was a nice gesture, as was the comment he just gave her.

"I'm…" she stammered a little. "It's…always good to see you, too. Having a good day?"

He sighed through his nose. "I suppose. Niffty threw a wrench in my dinner-making plans. So long as she's done cleaning soon, then I should be able to get back on track."

Her eyes lit up significantly. "Ooh, I can't wait. What're you making?"

It should've been a simple response, either roast or a stew, but he found himself smirking playfully. "Oh, don't worry, my dear Charlie. You'll found out soon enough. Nosy demons such as yourself will just have to wait."

She crossed her arms and pouted adorably while trying to hide a grin. "I am not nosy."

He snickered. "Of course not. Not nosy, energetic, nor curious at all. Shame on me for thinking otherwise."

She rolled her eyes. "Very funny."

"And what about you? Plenty of plans for the Hotel keeping you busy?"

"Yeah," she sighed, her smiling slipping. She took out a crumbled ball of note paper. "Errands, errands, and more errands." Then, she felt her shoulders sag slightly, not liking how polite she felt she needed to be in this instance. "Do you, uh, need anything while I'm out?"

He glanced between her and the list she held. He was about to say that whatever was needed he could provide with a snap of his fingers. However, he stopped himself from suggesting it. Instead, he had something else in mind.

"Well, now that you mention it, the kitchen is running low on just about everything."

"Oh, okay," she nodded, taking out a pen. Going off to the side, she put the list against the wall to use it as a hard surface to write against. "What all do we need?"

He peered briefly at the list, seeing all the supplies, linens, and odds and ends that were so clearly written in Niffty's tedious handwriting.

"I have a better idea," he suggested. "That list of yours is awfully overcrowded. Anything added would just blend together incoherently. I'll tag along with you."

She nearly dropped the pen. This was…different. Normally, she was the one to initiate being social, to seek him out for business meetings or, as what happened in his study, to hang out. That's not to say that she objected to his suggestion, far from it. She just didn't want him to go out of his way for her.

"Are you sure," she asked. "It's nothing for me to put together a separate list for food and whatnot. And if you want, I can get your groceries first so you have time to cook. And then I'll-"

He shook his head at her. "Leave once more to carry out the rest of your errands? How redundant! No, I'm sure it'll all go much smoother if we go together. Not to mention, as co-owner, it would be abhorrent of me to have you do all that work and nonsense by yourself. So…"

In a sweeping gesture, Alastor offered his arm. "Shall we?"

Charlie had to giggle a little. Only Alastor could make such a simple movement seem dramatic and suave. "If…you're sure," she said as she placed her hand in the crook of his elbow. "We'll try and make it quick, so you can get back and have enough time to make whatever it is you need to make."

"As in rush," he smirked at her as he led them through the halls. "Goodness, no! Where's the fun in that. I enjoy taking my time when out in public. And while we're on the subject, a jaunt to the local shops could prove interesting with you by my side."

She quirked an eyebrow at him. "How so?"

He laughed and shrugged. "Not sure. We won't know 'til we get there, will we?"

Suddenly, the warmth of her hand disappeared from his arm. He turned around to see she had obviously stopped walking. It was such a small action, but it jarred him more than he cared to admit. So much so that his elbow stayed in the air, as if awaiting the return of her gentle grasp.

She did that thing where she rubbed one of her arms, which he'd quickly understood to be some sort of self-pacifying gesture. She gave him a tight half-smile, as if trying to convince herself that nothing was wrong. "We're…headed in the direction of the lobby, aren't we?"

"Naturally," he said, stepping closer to her. "How else would we leave the Hotel?"

"Well," she shrugged. "One of the side entrances is nearby." She perked up slightly. "Actually, it's a small, cute little mudroom. You might like it, given it's also a pretty private room…"

He shook his head, ready to explain that his bedroom and his study were enough for him. However, she had brightened up a little at that suggestion, as opposed to the uncertainty, though that was still lying underneath.

He gave a long sigh, as if inconvenienced. "Very well, then," he conceded. "Lead the way."

As he'd hoped, her full genuine smile came back. And he couldn't keep his heart from stuttering when her hand found the inside of his elbow once more. Just as he said, this time he allowed her to lead them through the halls.

Logically, he should be advocating for them to go through the foyer, instead of acting like rats scurrying nervously away. However, he felt indulgent of her in this case. Plus, her smile stayed on her face and she even started babbling random conversation. Discussing things in regards to the grand entryway of the Hotel could be discussed later, he supposed.

He was looking forward to not only seeing what she was like outside of the Hotel, but also because he was more than happy to have her to himself for the day.


	8. Good Company

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * **Warning** : This chapter is heavy and emotional, more so than usual. Also, lots more swearing than usual.

Normally, a demon would arrive in Hell in a rather bedraggled state, having fallen so far from the land of the living. As such, it could take days or even weeks to regain their full strength while adapting to such an unpredictable place.

It took less than a day for everyone to feel absolute terror in the Radio Demon's presence.

The amount of power, confidence, and sheer brutality was unlike anything anyone had ever witnessed. Demons scurried like vermin to get away from him, and royals avoided talking about him at all, as if the mere mention of him could make him appear. And that static…That ominous, hair-raising, screechy radio static…Sinners to this day still had nightmares of just that noise alone. There had never been a being to establish themselves as an overlord right off the bat.

There was irony to this, though. Every sinner knew that the Radio Demon didn't want money or fame. And despite his status as an overlord, he didn't even seem too interested to be one of Hell's rulers. The Radio Demon didn't cause carnage to gain something physical. He did it to gain something mental.

Every single being in Hell knew…that it was all for fun. Nothing else. No other aspirations. He simply laughed and smiled as he effortlessly ruined whoever he came across. Like taking out feeble, pathetic pawns from a chess board.

As decades passed, it got to a point where he became a legend amongst sinners. Scary stories always floated around, overlords knew better than to mess with him, and not many sinners owned radios anymore. Though, he wasn't just a legend, or a dark tale to tell for a thrill. He was very much real, and everyone knew this, and that he could appear at any moment with his cruel voodoo trickery.

Not for a single second did anyone, no matter their status, dare to challenge him, talk to him, or let alone approach him.

So you can imagine Charlie's extreme confusion as she strolled casually down the street with her hand still in the crook of the Radio Demon's arm…And no one was reacting to him.

At first she assumed that no one could see him, that he was using his magic to hide himself. However, demons bustled smoothly out of their way. When they got to the busier shopping district, one or two demons got so close that they brushed passed him. They didn't react to accidentally bumping against the infamous Radio Demon, and Alastor barely reacted either, aside from a slightly inconvenienced flex of his shoulder.

"Okay," Charlie breathed out at some point, making Alastor look at her. "I have many questions."

His smirk widened, an eyebrow lifting. "Oh? Do tell."

"Well, actually," she shook her head. "Technically just one big question. How is no one seeing you right now?"

"What an odd thing to ask. Of course they see me. How else would they be moving around me?"

"No, I mean, why is no one…uh," she paused a little to pick the least barbaric word. " _Reacting_ to you?"

Alastor disregarded her careful sentence with a raucous laugh. "You mean screaming in terror? Fleeing for the hills? Fainting at the mere sight of me?"

"My fault for trying to be subtle," she muttered loud enough for him to hear.

He only laughed at that. When he stopped laughing, he locked gazes with her, to make sure she was watching him. With his free hand, he held up two of his fingers. Then, he stretched his arm outward into the crowd. Using just the tips of these two fingers, he jabbed a random demon's shoulder, making them stumble sideways.

"Hey," the demon snapped, rubbing at his arm as if simply shoulder-checked. "Watch where you're going, you lackwit! Damn, that hurt…" he was muttering as he continued on his way.

Charlie watched the demon fade into the crowd before raising a brow expectantly at Alastor, waiting for him to elaborate.

"When I'm out in public, I want to be discreet and blend in," he explained. "It wouldn't do to have demons making a scene every time they laid eyes on me, no matter how entertaining that would be. I would never get anything done otherwise."

"So, how are you doing it, then?"

"My own personal shadow," he smirked cleverly. "I manipulate it around me to make me less visible."

"Ah," she responded awkwardly. "So…That would mean that I probably look ridiculous talking to thin air and…" She glanced at where her hand still rested on his arm. "Holding thin air."

"Ah, but there's the kicker," he said, leaning down conspiratorially. "I said less visible, not completely invisible. They see my outline. A blur, if you will. They're far too busy with their own dead-end lives to notice anything out of the ordinary."

"A blur," she repeated. "But I can see you just fine."

"Because I don't have a need to hide from you."

Charlie smiled warmly at that.

"There really is no point," he continued with a dramatic sigh. "Apparently I'm not menacing enough for you."

She chuckled as they stopped walking. "Nope. Not at all."

She let her hand fall from his elbow as she took out Niffty's list from her pocket. She and Charlie had already discussed putting together a list not too long ago. Charlie just wasn't expecting to be presented with it so soon. Well, it wasn't really soon, but all the same…It definitely felt too soon.

Still, Charlie couldn't help but appreciate it. Niffty had remembered when Charlie had babbled on about the possibility of a rec room for sinners to blow off steam, and had added some of the things that Charlie had mentioned to the list.

Charlie was excited to finally hit the shops, to be able to finally put an idea into motion, but she needed to make sure they got Niffty's stuff and Alastor's groceries first. After that, she would just have to see how much money she had left over.

"So, where to first," Alastor asked.

She hummed a little, looking around. "That department store looks promising," she said, pointing to a long several story building. "With how big it is I might be a while in there. If you want, we can split up. I'll get Niffty's stuff while you get your groceries. We'll meet back here in about an hour?"

He rolled his eyes. "I did say I'd be tagging along, didn't I?"

"It's gonna be pretty boring, though."

He shrugged. "Well, no one ever said that shopping could be fun all the time. Despite my endeavors for entertainment, I'm afraid there are plenty of boring things in this existence that are essential."

She shrugged with a slight frown. "Well…If you say so."

It was like any other department store, with tiled floors, blinding LED's on the ceiling, aisles upon aisles, and plenty of customers milling about and messing with the products to cure their boredom. Nothing extravagant, almost normal. As normal as a department store in Hell could be.

Extension cord, curtains, and linens were on Niffty's part of the list.

They made their way to the home section of the store. Curtains would be simple enough. It was the different sized linens that would be a bit of a hassle, given how much variety in sizes she would need.

Actually, it would all be quite the hassle. She would have to carry it all in her arms given that this store didn't offer shopping carts. Well, it did, but none of them had wheels. And as she looked through the bed sheets and comforters, somewhere in a different part of the store she could hear the obnoxious screeching of metal being dragged along the tiled floor as a stubborn demon was trying to forcibly use a cart.

She draped a bed sheet set over one of her arms and continued on to the next one to pick out. Of course, everything she was picking out was red, so as to keep with the theme of the Hotel.

Every now and then, she glanced at Alastor out of the corner of her eye. All he did was stand there, silently perusing the shelves as they went. Occasionally they'd both catch each other's gazes, and Alastor would give her a wide smile as if this was normal, as if going on a shopping trip with the horrific Radio Demon was commonplace.

When Charlie wasn't stealing glances, she listened to the buzz of his radio static or the sound of him humming a tune that his microphone quietly elicited. She even found herself nodding her head to the melody of what sounded like some swing music.

Before she knew it, quite some time had passed, and they hadn't moved very far from the current section. She stopped listening to his light humming, as she was faced with a dilemma. On an empty gap in the shelf, she had set everything down. There was now a large mass of luxurious fabric lying in front of her. If it were just the curtains it wouldn't be so bad, but the amount of linens Niffty thought they needed was almost too much.

"Hey, Al," she grunted as she brought some of it into her arms. "I got these. Could you take the rest of them?" When she turned around, he was nowhere to be seen.

At first she thought he'd gone to a different part of the store to get his groceries, but then she remembered this particular department store didn't have food. She felt some annoyance that he didn't tell her that he was leaving, but then she caught herself. Alastor, as social as he was, was also pretty aloof at times. She had no right to get annoyed by his nature.

Still, she couldn't help but sigh in exasperation as she gathered everything into her arms. The entirety of all that fabric was so heavy she almost toppled over. She had to quickly shove her elbow against a shelf to prevent from doing so.

She still needed the extension cord, but there was no way she was going to be able to carry that as well without some help. She supposed the first thing she should do was to get to the register first. She could pay for all this, maybe put them in bags if they had ones big enough, find the extension cord, buy that, and figure out where Alastor went. It would be a lot of running around and a lot of back-and-forth, but she didn't see an alternative now that she was alone.

She made her way to the check-out with much difficulty. The fabrics were heaped so heavy and high that she struggled to see well in front of her, and she could now feel a bit of sweat rolling down her temple.

By twisted luck, the toe of her foot snagged on something. It wasn't a hard fall as all that fabric cushioned her upper body, but it still knocked the wind out of her on impact.

"Whoops," someone snickered. She slowly tilted her head up to see a demon looking down at her, with all of his vampiric-looking fangs exposed in a pitiless smirk. "Next time watch where you're going, _Princess_." He gave one last laugh as he continued on his way.

Tiredly, Charlie shifted until she was kneeling. She was thankful the fall wasn't too bad as she knew her chin would've slammed against the ground otherwise, a painful feeling she was all too familiar with, but the fabrics suffered at her expense. They were clumped together in a tangled pile and had a light dusting of dirt and debris from passersby's shoes and feet.

"Well," she exhaled as she started gathering them up again. "Guess I'm doing laundry when I get back to the Hotel."

"You know you're gonna have to pay for all that," a random employee said to her in passing, not even bothering to look at her.

"Yes," she huffed. "I know."

"Well, this is quite an interesting way to go about shopping," another voice said. If she weren't flustered, she would've smiled, because this voice was full of radio static. "What exactly is happening here?"

"Oh, you know," she sighed as she stood up, armed once again with Niffty's requests. "Just another day." She turned to look at him, or at least face his general direction given that she couldn't see him so well with so much in her way.

"Is that so," he muttered. Then, a weight lifted, literally, and she could now see his wide, almost doubtful smile. He had brought most of the pile into his own arms with very little effort, and an extension cord was getting tangled along with all of it.

"So that's where you disappeared to," she said, pointing to it.

"It was on the list, was it not?"

"Thank you," she breathed as they walked towards one of the check-out counters. "Carrying all of that was, well…a bitch."

"You should've waited for me," he said. "I have no doubt you can carry all this alone, but how ungentlemanly would that be of me."

They placed everything down to be rung out. When the cashier gave her the total, she started taking out her cash.

"Allow me," Alastor offered as he conjured some money from thin air.

For a reason that she couldn't fathom, she winced, probably because of how easy that looked. "I've…got enough," she shook her head.

"It's exceedingly rude to expect the lady to pay."

"Well, technically," she reasoned. "It's the Hotel's money, not mine." This was technically a blatant lie, as the money in her pocket and the money remaining in the safe under her floorboards was actually her own personal money. Though, given circumstances, she now considered it to belong to the Hotel. "I can pay," she told him with a smile. "It's no big deal. Plus, you should save that for your groceries."

Without waiting for a response from him, she handed the cashier the payment. Alastor dropped his hand as his money faded. The silence he was exuding wasn't exactly tense or uncomfortable, and she didn't think he was viewing this as a power struggle. He only exuded deep thoughtfulness, and she was half-tempted to jokingly ask 'Penny for your thoughts?'

When she was given the change, she put it in her pocket, and then went to reach for her purchases.

Alastor put his hand palm-up in front of her face to stop her. "At least let me do _this_ for you, my dear." He snapped his fingers, and the curtains and linens disappeared. Charlie didn't have to ask him to know that all of it was now probably waiting at the Hotel for when they got back.

The cashier stared with wide eyes at where all that stuff had just been. Without looking at them, and without saying a word, the cashier shook his head quickly as he knelt behind the counter. When he stood up, he was holding a large booze bottle and was taking large glugs from it as if nothing else mattered.

\-------

They were once again out on the street, with Charlie glancing around for their next destination.

"What do we need next," Alastor asked, gesturing to her pocket that had the list.

"Well," she began as she started taking the list out. She paused as her fingers skimmed the remaining money she had. She almost took it out of her pocket to recount it, but she didn't want to do that with Alastor watching. Clumsily, she silently counted it while it was still in her pocket.

Charlie gritted her teeth and frowned deeply. Son of a bitch.

"Something the matter, my dear?"

"No," she said quickly. Too quickly.

He tilted his head curiously at her.

"Uh, I mean…" She trailed off. It was great that she had gotten the things on Niffty's part of the list. However, the money she now had left didn't even begin to cover all the new things she would need for the rec room. And she also wanted to help Alastor pay for groceries.

He was still staring at her, very intently. He was still smiling widely as always, but his eyes were narrowed slightly, as if trying to solve something.

She quickly glanced away to look at the street, the other demons passing by, the storefronts, anywhere but looking at him. In her effort to avoid his gaze, she noticed two things. One, that the sky had darkened. And two, that there was a thrift store right across the street from them.

Trying to get back on track, she said, "I think we should go there next."

He scowled in the direction she was pointing. "That dingy old place? Why, it can hardly be considered a shop, much less anything worth anyone's time. Whatever do you even need there that you can't get from other shops?"

"Hey, I like going in there," she countered lightly. "You never know what you might find."

"It's hardly classy or dignifying." He shook his head. After a moment, he gave a sigh. "Oh, very well. After you."

"Actually," she mused as she once again looked at the sky. "It looks like it's starting to get late. If you wanna be able to have time to cook, we really should split up. Kill two birds with one stone."

He smirked widely at her. "If I didn't know any better I'd say you were trying to get rid of me."

"No, definitely not," Charlie shook her head with a small smile. "I'm just, uh, eager to eat some more of your food. Like always."

He hummed in response to that, staring directly into her eyes.

For some reason, the way he was looking at her made her resolve shake. With a sigh, she tucked some of her hair behind her ear. "Also…Well, I also don't want you to feel…obligated to spend time with me."

He chuckled and shook his head at her as if what she said was absolutely ludicrous. "My dear, I also said at one point that I wholeheartedly accept your company, did I not?"

He laughed again, louder. There was no mockery in his tone, no condescension. Charlie felt herself smile a little more.

"Ah, but perhaps you're on to something," he sighed after calming down. "I don't believe I'll have time to cook for you tonight, but I do see the practicality in going separate for a spell. Shall I meet you in your… _quaint_ little thrift shop afterwards?"

"Yeah," she nodded. "Sounds good."

He nodded once as he turned away. "Until then, my dear."

For a long moment, Charlie just stood there watching him walk away. One second she was worrying about money, the next Alastor was distracting her by making her question their friendship. Er, was that the right word? No, it was simply a business partnership.

After a few seconds, Alastor stopped walking and peered over his shoulder to grin at her. It wasn't a mischievous one either. There was no snide or snark. It was a bright and genuine grin. And it was directed solely at her. This time, she didn't acknowledge the blush spreading across her face, because her heart had done a sudden and unexpected summersault.

It was then that she realized that Alastor didn't view this as just a business outing, but as being social in general. He seemed to want to genuinely spend time with her. Just as she wanted to spend time with him the other night.

Not as business partners, but as friends.

\-------

Charlie loved going through this thrift store. In all honesty, it might be the only one in Hell. With the vast array of random tchatchkes and artifacts, she always had fun sifting through it all. Though, she didn't always find much, while she was being honest.

The expression goes, 'One man's trash is another man's treasure.' And given that thrift stores in the living world were often charities, it seemed like a win-win for anyone involved.

Of course, this thrift store wasn't a charity by any stretch of the definition. This _was_ Hell.

And well, plain and simple, it was filled to the brim with nothing but useless trash.

It was as if sinners thought that the dumpsters in Hell were beneath them so they needed a whole store to chuck away their junk. There were occasional treasures one could find, but only after spending hours upon hours going through every single shelf, dust bunny, pile of rubbish, and trip hazards. It wasn't well maintained, well organized, and no one cared about it.

Except for Charlie.

She enjoyed the store for all its random stuff, but also because not many demons frequented it. No one wanted to waste their time when they could just get stuff brand new at a different store. This worked in Charlie's favor because she could take her time without feeling eyes on her. It was normal for her to never know peace when out in public, even more so nowadays. The store was quiet and she could go at her own pace without feeling the pressure of just wanting to get in and get out with the least amount of mockery.

She could breathe for a moment. As well as one could with how heavy the air was with dust.

After finding a frayed wicker basket to carry things in, she walked the aisles, on the hunt for books first. There were plenty of empty shelving units in the Hotel she could use, and she envisioned them being filled with books and movies. This store didn't often have DVDs, so onto the books.

Which there was in abundance since most demons were too busy to take time out of their days to read. Nearly every aisle had a book or two tucked away under random objects and broken mementos. It was a quick walkthrough, as most of the books she came across had torn covers and missing pages. She only found a few intact. The words in these books were faded and illegible at times, but at least they were complete books.

She searched around and found other things she'd wanted to add to the rec room, like some music CDs, a stack of magazines albeit outdated, some vinyl that Alastor and maybe the others might enjoy, and a couple card and board games. She was hoping to find maybe some weight-lifting stuff as her research said that exercise was a good stress reliever, but came up short with that. Oh well. She was happy to have found all this other stuff.

She approached the check-out and put the basket on the counter.

The demon at the counter, an employee that Charlie had never seen before, looked down at her like she grew a second head. "The hell do you want?"

"To pay for these," Charlie said as she dipped into her pocket for the money.

She cackled at her. "Psh. Sure, I'll gladly take your money. But no one buys stuff here, they just take it. No one gives a shit. No one even owns this place or works here. Fuck, _I_ don't even work here."

Charlie tilted her head with extreme confusion. "Then, why are you here?"

She shrugged. "You never know when you might find something good here. Oh, and then there're dumbasses like you trying to buy things. Now about that money," she sneered as she leaned towards her.

Without saying a word, without expressing any emotion, Charlie picked up her stuff and walked out the store with it.

"Pfft," Charlie heard the demon grumble. "You're no fun."

Yep, it was absolutely fun to know that everyone in that store had been scamming Charlie all these years. An absolute riot.

"Jesus," Charlie exhaled sharply. It was times like this where she almost agreed with everyone about her being naïve or gullible. She shook her head a little, trying not to think so negatively. This was Hell. Everyone always got pushed around, scammed, or screwed over. Certainly she was nothing special. Except for one crucial detail…

"Well, hello again!"

She looked to see a familiar set of vampire-like teeth grinning maliciously at her.

The demon stood right in front of her, as if to block her from going forward. "We keep running into each other," he sneered. With a mocking tilt of his head, he stepped forward, getting in her personal space, and asked, "What about your mommy and daddy? You run into them lately?"

The wicker basket creaked as she dug her fingers into it, her nails stabbing painfully into the pliant wood. The air around her turned still and cold, as if all the remaining oxygen had been sucked out of Hell. She tried to force breaths through her clenched teeth, but they didn't come.

The demon smugly stared at her blindsided face. "Guess not." He was already backing casually away, but he suddenly stopped. 

Tears threateningly blurred her vision, until she could no longer see the demon in front of her. When she realized he wasn't moving away, she blinked rapidly, a few falling down her cheeks as her vision cleared.

The demon was stock-still, frozen in place. Its skin had turned a deathly pallor and his eyes were wide with unadulterated terror. He was looking at something directly behind her. Before she could turn around to see what it was, the demon whimpered and started to tremble.

"No," he was muttering as he slowly, cautiously backed away. "No, no, no, no, fuck no!" He ended with a shout as he ran the other direction like his life depended on it.

The wicker basket dropped to her feet with a harsh clatter as she watched the demon disappear. 

Many things had just happened within the last few seconds. The cocky demon had done a complete one-eighty with his personality in under a second. And to top it all off, she was still agonizingly reeling as his words continued to ring loudly in her head.

It was so loud that she didn't hear all of her "purchases" fall to the ground, possibly being ruined. She didn't hear demons continuing to bustle about around her. She didn't hear the radio static.

She could still feel though. Teeth still gritted together, she tried over and over to swallow the lump in her throat, to bite back more tears. Oh, yes. She could still feel. And she fucking hated it.

When she felt a hand on her shoulder, she jumped so sharply she stepped on one of the CDs, and it crunched under her feet.

"It looks like you had some success," Alastor said ever jovially as he gestured to the wicker basket lying hopelessly at her feet. "Did you find everything you needed?"

Charlie stared at him, her mouth open, jaw twitching, trying to form words. Trying to prevent her turmoil from spilling out. She wanted to tell him that she needed a minute. Instead, she chose action.

Painfully pinching the bridge of her nose, she swiveled her feet to turn away from him. This wasn't the first time a demon had mocked her, and it wasn't the first time one had mocked her about her parents. But it was always just in passing. A snicker, a small comment, the word 'Princess' being thrown at her. It was never to this degree. Not this blatant, cruel, and in-your-face. She had never felt this trapped before.

She paced a little, jaggedly. This wasn't the Hotel. They were out in public. There wasn't anywhere to run, hide, or calm down. She felt so fucking trapped.

A sob broke free, just a single one. She caught herself, forcing all other hysteria down as much as her mental exhaustion would allow. She didn't want to feel this. She didn't want to be weak. She didn't want the Radio Demon, of all sinners, to see her like this.

She tried a different tactic, by tuning her senses in to the sound of his radio static. It probably wouldn't calm her down any in this instance, but she liked that sound and she was desperate – no, frantic – for any distraction.

She was still pinching the bridge of her nose, as if she could physically block the tears that were already beginning to drip down her face. She couldn't see Alastor, couldn't know his reaction to seeing her like this. She hadn't heard his footsteps. She didn't think he disappeared on her – not after what he'd said earlier – but it sounded like he was just standing in place. She could feel his eyes on her.

Swiping rapidly at her face, practically clawing herself, she glanced out the corner of her eye, although she didn't know what she expected to see.

She blinked a little, and turned more to get a better look at him. He stood there a couple feet away from her, the wicker basket tucked under one of his arms, nothing broken or smashed, and he was looking at her with an expression that she had never seen from him before.

His eyes and smile were not wide with the usual thrill for chaos, but were small and soft, with concerned lines in between his brows.

Charlie let out a shaky sigh. "I…I'm sorry. I just…" She paused to look away as she felt more tears trying to brim to the surface. "You…shouldn't have to see me like this. You know…P-" She swallowed harshly again. "Princess of Hell…and all."

He was silent, the most silent Charlie had ever heard him be, and the lines between his brows only deepened.

Not knowing what else to say, or how to respond to the state he was in, she walked towards him and reached for the basket. "I got that," she said, and he allowed her to take it until his hands were empty.

Her brows furrowed. "You didn't find anything grocery shopping?"

He blinked, as if snapping out of whatever he was in. "That's what you're worried about, my dear?"

"Well, that's what you came on this shopping trip for."

He laughed, a stiff and uneasy sound. He shook his head and snapped his fingers, and the wicker basket disappeared.

"Well, then," he crowed suddenly, and his wide smile returned to his face. "Are we all ready? Shall we go back to the Hotel?"

Charlie blinked rapidly, whiplashed by the sudden change in his demeanor. "But your groceries?"

"Already taken care of," he explained as he offered his elbow. "Just as anticipated, I won't have time to cook tonight, but that'll just make tomorrow's dinner taste even better. The longer one waits for food, the better it tastes. I do hope you'll be able to find sustenance until then?"

"Yeah," Charlie breathed out as she mechanically placed her hand in his elbow again. "It's fine. Don't stress too much about it. I can look after myself."

"I have no doubt."

As they walked back to the Hotel, with very step she took, she felt more and more fatigued. So much so that she didn't realize how tight she was holding his arm. Alastor felt this. It wasn't painful and didn't break either of their strides, though. In response to this, he smoothly shifted his arm inward a bit, making her step closer to him until her shoulder was brushing his bicep.

Charlie didn't notice this shift, for something else had come to mind. It was a mundane thought that somehow broke through the fog.

"That demon that ran away," she said. "He saw you."

"Oh, yes, indeed."

"Why?"

He smirked widely. "Because I wanted him to."

\-------

When they arrived at Alastor's room, Charlie's hand fell listlessly from his elbow.

"So where'd all our stuff end up?"

"Well, obviously the food went to the kitchen," Alastor explained. "The basket went to your room. And the linens and such should currently be in Niffty's possession."

"Right, thanks," she said. "Do you want help paying for groceries?"

He smirked at her. "Considering I can conjure money whenever I see fit? No, I'm quite alright."

She opened her mouth, a broken smile playing at the edges. "I…" She trailed off. _'I had fun today.' 'I had a great time today.'_ Those automatic formalities were fucking pathetic and laughable. She sifted through her exhausted brain, trying to come up with something.

Then, she smiled, just a little wider. "I enjoyed your company today."

His smile also widened. "And I yours."

She pointed over her shoulder. "I should go find Niffty. I don't want her doing all that laundry. It's not fair considering she's not the one who got it all dirty."

She almost chuckled to herself as she walked away from Alastor. It was such a contradictory thing to say with how much Niffty desired to do something. Still, it wasn't in Charlie's nature to let anyone do things at her own expense.

"We don't need your parents."

Her footsteps stopped. The hallway fell as silent as a grave.

Without turning around, too ashamed to see his reaction, in a dead voice she said, "You caught on to what that demon said."

"No. It was broadcasted on my radio waves."

Her brows scrunched. "Broadcasted on…" Her eyes widened. She turned around, and she walked back over to him. She stared directly into his eyes. "The news cast…You knew this whole time."

"Yes," was his simple answer.

She shook her head slowly. "Why didn't you say anything?"

He tilted his head at her, a small smile playing on his face. "That wasn't up to me now was it? Just as it's not up to me to force you to walk through the foyer passed all those photos."

Charlie exhaled. Then, she scoffed. And then, hysteria bubbled to the surface.

With her head in her hands, she paced the hallway, laughing loudly and emotionlessly into her palms.

Her hands clapped against her thighs as she dropped them. "Well, go ahead, then!"

Alastor blinked, almost flinching at her sudden empty exuberance. However, he remained still, his smile still on his face and not reacting as she ranted.

"You wanted entertainment. Now you're getting it! Watching one of the biggest laughingstocks of Hell having a mental breakdown! You've probably been so bored these past few months, I can't imagine what a knee-slapper this is for you!"

Her pacing didn't falter even a little bit, and she barely looked at him. She only laughed again.

"Or maybe you're not entertained. Maybe you feel pity for me. 'Oh, Charlie, my dear. Do stop being overdramatic. You're a demon, do act like it. And while you're at it, take down all those photos you can't even look at anymore. I mean, goodness, my dear, the solution is simple.' Jesus Fucking Christ!" She ended as her back met the wall with an echoing slam.

The hall fell silent once again, save for her breathing.

Her breaths came out raggedly as she stared at the opposite wall, and her shoulders jerked and spasmed as if her lungs were forcing out air it could no longer produce. It was empty sobs, all of which held no sound as tears ran freely down her face. Well, the Radio Demon had now seen her hysteria. Why not her sorrow, too? She would say that she no longer had dignity, so what did it matter? But this wasn't true. In her mind, given her reputation and in many demons' eyes anyway, she didn't have dignity to begin with.

She almost slumped to the floor, too drained, too demeaned. Something stopped her before she could even consider doing so.

There was a pressure beneath her chin. It was so gentle, and it delicately coaxed her gaze upward.

She somehow still had the energy to be curious. This time, blinking away the tears wouldn't work. Numbly, she brought her hand up to swipe it feebly over her eyes before letting it fall again.

Alastor stood in front of her. His gaze was calm, his smile and eyes once again soft. This time, though, there were no creases between his brows. The words that came out of his mouth were equally soft, and not at all what she was expecting.

"I have no right to force you to be anyone but yourself. Goodness knows no one has that power over you, given your charisma. I have never met a single demon who ignores the derision from other demons with such decorum as you do. I also have no right to force you to take down those photos you so despise-"

"Don't you dare," she whispered. "Don't you fucking dare. I love those photos. Every last fucking one of them." If her chin wasn't still tilted upwards towards his face, she would've hung her head in despair. "I love my parents…so much…"

"Even though they dragged your name through the mud." It wasn't a question. "What demon acts this way? What demon feels this way in such a matter?" He paused. "But to answer your question, no. I am not the slightest bit entertained by this."

He paused again, closing his eyes briefly. "As it were, I quite miss my own mother."

She opened her mouth, wanting to respond to that, though not knowing any idea how with how wrecked and scatterbrained she felt.

She felt something feather-light stroking the underside of her jaw. "Perhaps I had no right to bring up your parents," he continued with a slight shrug. "Yet, I did anyway. I always tell you what you need to hear, and I did just that."

After one last stroke of his fingers, his hand slid away from her chin, and her head dipped slightly at the loss. "You don't need your parents, my dearest. We'll do just fine."

They stood in that hallway for some time, soaking in the silence, as opposed to running from it. Charlie was the first to speak.

"I need to take down those photos," she croaked. "I…I'm the owner of the Hotel. I can't be freaking out every time I have to walk through the foyer."

Alastor hummed. "Do you wish to take them down now?"

She shook her head. "No." She swallowed. "I don't know what to do."

"Nor do I," he said, almost sounding casual. "This is not something I can help with, regretfully."

A remainder of a hysterical laugh broke free, but only one. "You think you haven't helped."

"I am not renowned for being empathetic, as you know."

She shook her head as she gave him a watery smile. "Coulda fooled me."

He smirked slightly. "I trust that means I've done at least some good in this instance." He suddenly laughed. "Ha, me doing good! Well, I suppose there's a first – and last – time for everything." Charlie didn't laugh with him, but she did smile all the same. "Anyway, my dear. I should let you get back to your anticipated task with Niffty. Laundry did you say it was?"

"Actually," she exhaled as she straightened, but still leaned against the wall for support. "I think…I'm gonna sleep…For the next century."

He laughed at this. "And leave me to run the Hotel all on my lonesome. How foolish of you!"

"As foolish as me letting the Radio Demon help run a redemption hotel," she asked with a slight smirk.

"Foolish," he narrowed his eyes playfully at her. "Why, I'd say it's one of the best things you ever did, if you want my opinion." He grinned haughtily.

"Yeah," she sighed, smiling a little wider. "I…I know that."

The deviousness faded from his face, until replaced with that soft smile Charlie was beginning to like more and more. "Should you need anything else from me," he said, pointing to his bedroom door. "You know where to find me."

"Right," she nodded as she dusted herself off, briefly grimacing at the scorch marks on her clothes from her tears. "And…if you ever needed anything from me, well, same thing."

He nodded at her as he opened his door. "Noted. Have a good night, my dearest."

"You, too, Al."

His door closed, leaving her alone in the empty, quiet hallway. She walked back to her room alone, but no longer feeling lonely.


	9. Curiouser and Curiouser

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Please Read**
> 
> * Disclaimer: For one, I don't think I ever gave the disclaimer. **I do not own _Hazbin Hotel_** '.
> 
> Also, the song in this chapter is called "A Dash of Voodoo", and it's a song that I made up. Hope you enjoy.

Alastor didn't care for politics, nor did he care about what others were passionate about. He only cared about himself.

When he got word of 666 News doing a last minute report on the Princess of Hell revealing the subject matter of her most recent project, he took his time – so as not to appear overeager – to find the nearest electronics storefront. He didn't own a television, so he gathered near a multitude of other bored sinners to watch the estranged tendencies of a royal.

He'd heard of Princess Charlotte Magne over the years, but nothing that he felt was worth his attention. Everyone in Hell never took her seriously and thought she wasn't worth anything. So, why should he?

However, he'd grown agonizingly bored over many decades. At the time, he was ashamed at how quickly he wanted to find a front row seat to the news cast.

Wanting to redeem loathsome, mutated, monstrous, individuals…simply because she cared?!

Every single demon at that storefront snorted, scoffed, and made cruel jokes at the Princess.

He stood there silently, amongst all those sinners, grinning widely. In that moment, that grin wasn't just part of his unwavering persona. It was a grin of interest.

It interested him so much that he faded himself directly into the news station to get an even better front row seat. Though, he was trying not to get his hopes up too much. One of the few things he knew of the Princess was how much of a misguided dreamer she was. He didn't intend to stay but a few moments more, for he only wanted to see how the rest of the news cast would go.

For many minutes, the Princess was extremely disappointed by the lack of response and all those bewildered faces. She slumped in her chair, stammering over her words, with zero confidence.

His shadow nudged him impatiently, not thinking it was even remotely worth their time.

"Maybe I'm not getting through to you," the Princess suddenly said with a smirk.

The moment she snapped her fingers, Alastor knew how unforgettable this was going to be. And goodness, what a performance it was!

During and after her lively, charismatic, fiery presentation, a thrill was shooting through Alastor. This was what he'd wanted all these years. What he craved. This was the break from the monotony he had desperately been searching for.

The crowd laughed hysterically at the Princess, to a point where they all doubled over and gasped for air. Alastor was laughing loudly, too. Specifically because of how entertaining this was going to be for him.

It was quite baffling to him actually. How did none of those uncultured vermin even think for a second how interesting this idea was? How opportunistic? Though this fanciful notion of hers would never work, almost an entire century had passed him by, and never did he recall such a unique idea to grace this damned pit.

The mockery towards the Princess was so excessive that he left the news station quickly, but also because he was very, very eager to walk through the front doors of the Happy Hotel.

He didn't quite know why mockery to such a degree irritated him. He'd teased and tormented plenty of people and demons throughout his existence, but it was always trivial so as not to waste too much of his own time. He never understood why demons seemed to always go out of their way to ridicule anyone, especially the Princess. He felt it was a waste of breath and professionalism, as if it were schoolyard gossip.

However, after joining the Hotel, something had notably changed for him, though he couldn't quite put his finger on it. Whatever it was, it resulted in a very strong reaction.

After he was done with the abysmally boring act of grocery shopping, he went to meet Charlie at the equally abysmal thrift shop. Only to find her face to face with a sneering sinner.

Any other demon in her position would be readying for a fight. He looked on in surprise and, admittedly, wonder at her expression, or lack thereof. She stood there, very still and with no emotion as that lowlife sinner threw such harshness in her face. Alastor had no doubt that she was probably tumultuous on the inside, but she barely reacted on the outside.

For a second, the demon stepped closer, with its hideous toothy grin. Then, it began arrogantly backing away.

It wasn't that this shopping trip was boring, as he was genuinely interested to see what Charlie was like outside of the Hotel. It would be easy to say that this scum's interruption in their day could be a form of entertainment for him, but it was not. Not one little bit.

If this were Alastor being ridiculed, he would either kill him or curse him, depending on how his mood was that day.

He didn't think for a second that Charlie would put this demon in his place, as confrontation was not in her nature.

There were many things in this situation that began fueling Alastor's silent anger more and more. The blatant mockery, as if this demon had nothing better to do with his day, Charlie's forced stoicism, only to name a few.

Though he hadn't seen it because he'd left too soon, he'd heard of Charlie's fight with Killjoy on the news. And he had no doubt she could take care of herself. The age of old-fashioned chivalry was nearly dead, with most women even viewing it as an insult nowadays. This was why Alastor didn't step in…yet.

But then the demon started walking away. Scot-free.

That would not do.

Not at all.

A wide, malicious grin split his face, revealing all of his teeth, including his gums. There was no glee or delight in this grin. There was also no radio static. He was as silent as a ghost. Even his microphone thought it best to go silent.

His shadow happily broke rank by leaning on Alastor's shoulder like a parrot. It watched as radio dials appeared in his eyes. The shadow silently snickered and faded, allowing the unwitting demon to fully see its master.

The corners of Alastor's mouth twitched wider, proudly, as he watched the demon whimper, shout, and flee with its tail between its legs. Alastor did not break his intimidation until that pest was out of sight. He could've done many things. He _thought_ of doing many things. Oh, the fun he would've had with his latest victim. This was an afterthought, though, because in the moment, all Alastor wanted was for the demon to get away from Charlie, as well as to drive the point home. For which he was successful.

Alastor was good at many things, with scaring the daylights out of anyone who crossed his path being one of them. He was, however, not good at empathy.

When he saw how still Charlie was, even after the demon had gone, he wasn't sure what the best course of action was. So, he simply let her know that he was there so as not to startle her – did not work considering how sharply she flinched – picked up the things she'd dropped, and waited.

He was a very outspoken individual, never afraid to speak his mind. He never understood why anyone would want to suppress their emotions. Expressing oneself made one's personality all the more fascinating. So, he said nothing, did nothing, and waited for her to work through her inner demons.

That did not work either.

On their way to and arriving back at the Hotel, he could clearly see how tense, troubled, and…miserable she was. As she was walking away to do laundry, he once more felt the radio dials in his eyes, but it wasn't directed at Charlie. Certainly not! No, it was as if that repugnant demon was still there and mocking her. He blinked rapidly to get rid of it, knowing how illogical that was.

In a final effort, though he didn't _quite_ understand why he was putting in the effort, he said, "We don't need your parents." He wasn't sure how she'd react. Certainly such blatancy would not work in this instance.

And yet it did.

After her hysterics, after her venting, after her tears finally trailed down her cheeks did she finally give in to her heartache.

There was another thing that Alastor was good at, and that was talking. When in a social situation, he would often take control of the conversation with no effort nor regard for others.

He spoke to Charlie as if it were any other conversation, but with a crucial difference. There was no enthusiasm in his tone, no laughter, no arrogance, or even much emotion on his part. He spoke with a softness that he himself didn't recognize at first. He didn't stop to ponder this though, or change his tone.

Charlie's eyes bored into his as he talked, and with each word that was said, her eyes swam with a multitude of emotions. Some angry, some ashamed, some sad, most tired. As he carefully stroked the delicate skin beneath her jaw so as not to scratch her with his sharp nails, he soon realized just how much his words were silently and slowly getting through to her. He only dropped his hand away when she had calmed significantly, when he was sure she was in a better state.

He didn't know why her wellbeing mattered to him so much, why he cared so much. He only knew that he did, and that she needed help. It wasn't his place to help, but he did anyway. And when he finally garnered a smile from her, albeit small and still holding residual sadness, he felt lighter.

It wasn't a complete accomplishment, he knew she would never stop missing and loving her parents. In his opinion, she should be scorning their very existence. She should be showing demonic fury and laying waste to everything. But that wasn't who Charlie was.

She was caring, feeling, over-thinking, awkward, professional, enthusiastic, and lively.

And as he closed himself inside his bedroom that night, he knew that he could not imagine her any other way.

\-------

It was late afternoon, and Alastor was walking the halls of the Hotel. He had just finished reading and listening to some classical on his gramophone. Now, he was wondering what else he should do with his day. The Hotel was quiet, so there wasn't much in the way of work duties today.

At some point, he made his way to the first floor, and eventually the foyer. He approached Husk's bar and sat down on one of the stools.

Husk scowled harshly at him. With a huff, he flung the rag he'd been cleaning his countertop with onto a hook with practiced accuracy. He was experimenting with a mineral oil that Niffty had somehow managed to get her little hands on. She was doing a good job of things, but this hotel was still pretty dusty, and he was no slob when it came to his bar. By the end of the day, he was determined to make that damned countertop shine.

And now Alastor was here to interrupt it all.

Ever since being forced to join the Hotel, Alastor had an insanely annoying habit of bossing him around. He often asked him to do dishes after mealtimes, or clean off the concierge desk and his bar. The bar was originally going to be the replacement for the concierge desk, but Charlie was adamant about having both as separate things. So, now it was Husk's job to help maintain that as well, which was a useless task since no one's even checked in.

Husk opened his mouth, ready to ask him what the hell he wanted. However, his scowl dropped when he took in Alastor's neutral smile. "Shit," he muttered, and knelt behind the bar. "The usual?"

"Might as well," he shrugged.

Husk handed him a tumbler of whiskey. "So what's eating at you?"

Alastor raised a brow. "Eating at me?"

Husk rolled his eyes. "It doesn't happen too often for you to be bored out of your skull."

He scoffed and took a sip. "Why, this whole Hotel is quite boring. No new sinners to speak of and we're nearly halfway through the year."

Husk snorted and leaned on the bar. "I've known your sorry ass for years. You ain't been bored. Relaxed maybe, but not bored. So what the hell makes today different?"

"Today is not different," he responded, lightly scowling into the glass. "It's this whole week, it seems. Not much to do as of late."

"One week doesn't equal 'as of late'." Husk reached under the counter for a bottle. He flicked the cap off and took a swig. "Hey," he suddenly snapped as he saw that Alastor's glass had mysteriously refilled. "I gave you one, I didn't say you could have more. Stop stealing my shit."

Alastor smirked and chuckled. "Who is your supplier, need I ask?"

"Eh, fuck you," he muttered. "So what? You want advice or some shit? I ain't that kinda bartender."

"Advice? From you? Heavens, no," Alastor waved his hand dismissively. "Just looking to cure the boredom. I've already read through a good portion of my books, listened to my music on repeat, given Niffty a few useless orders, and now here I am with you."

"'Cause I'm so great at conversation."

"And self deprecation," Alastor grinned at him.

"Pfft, yeah, yeah. Anyway, what've you been doing this whole time you been living here? Why the sudden change?" Husk paused. "Like I said, you been pretty relaxed here. You don't stick around anywhere too long unless there's something fun to do. Something in it for you."

He raised a brow. "And you think there's nothing in it for me," he asked as he emptied the glass for a second time.

"Didn't say that," Husk said vaguely in response. He shot back the rest of his own alcohol and tossed the bottle in the trash. He took Alastor's glass and started cleaning it off. "Why not leave the Hotel for a bit and go terrorize the village," he suggested with a snort.

Alastor placed his elbow on the counter and his head in his hand. "Yes, I suppose that would bring some enjoyment."

Husk frowned at seeing him stall. "What, you got some kinda fucked up policy? Don't maim under the influence, or some shit?"

"I'm hardly under the influence, as you are quite aware."

He was right, of course. It never ceased to amaze Husk how arrogantly Alastor always presented himself, even down to him being able to drink large amounts of alcohol without so much as even getting tipsy. Demons often got drunk in as few shots as they could. They considered it a challenge. And then there was Alastor, who only wanted to enjoy it for the taste. Pretentious son of a bitch.

"Yeah, well, all I got is booze. And you don't know how to appreciate it like everyone else down here."

"As in becoming inebriated," he asked, standing up and dusting off his hands. "I think I shall pass, thank you very much."

"Pretentious son of a bitch," he scoffed loud enough for him to hear.

Alastor rolled his eyes at that, and then he sighed. "A quick talk and a quick drink. That was hardly enough. I suppose I'll just have to find something else to do."

Husk half-smirked as he watched him walk away. Alastor didn't like denying what was obvious, yet there were times where his egotism made him overlook or over-think things.

Husk grabbed the rag off the hook, sprayed on the mineral oil, and got back to work. "It's been a little less than a week."

Alastor's footsteps didn't falter as he spoke. "Pardon?"

"Nothing." Husk shook his head innocently. He paused to put in a little more elbow grease to the counter. "Oh, and Charlie's in the conference room on the second floor," he said casually. "By the way." When he heard Alastor's footsteps stop, he looked up to see his brow raised in question. "Bartenders don't miss a trick."

His brow rose even more. "I don't see how that applies to me," he said, though the smile on his face twitched ever so slightly, making Husk snicker under his breath. "And besides, I thought you didn't offer advice."

Husk's internal gloating ceased, and the scowl returned to his face. "I don't," he snapped, and he stared down at his counter again. "I ain't good at that shit. Don't you got somewhere else to be?"

For a long second, there was silence. Then, Husk could hear Alastor's footsteps fading away. Soon, he could hear those footsteps going up a distant flight of stairs.

"I ain't good at that shit," Husk repeated to himself in a mutter. He managed a small proud smile when he saw the outline of his reflection shine on the surface of the counter. He looked in the direction of where Alastor had disappeared. "But it looks like it was worth a shot."

\-------

About a week ago was when Charlie and Alastor had their heart-to-heart. She had joked that she would be sleeping for the next century, and Alastor wondered if she was actually taking that literally.

Just as planned, he'd made dinner the next night. A robust, savory stew that he knew Charlie would find absolutely delicious. He even added an extra dash of Tabasco, and an indulgent hint of MSG to make it all the more delectable. After all, everyone knows that a good cure-all for despair was food.

Every one of them gathered in one of the common areas, as per usual. Even Vaggie, who he hadn't seen much of lately due to her strange lack of sleep, had joined in on the meal. Everyone was there and enjoying themselves, getting seconds and thirds.

Save for Charlie.

This confused everyone, as the last time Charlie was late to join them was on the evening that her parents had besmirched her. Still, they didn't dwell too much on it, all of them knowing how busy Charlie often was, and assuming that she had simply turned in early.

Alastor debated on whether or not to bring this succulent food personally to her room. He knew there would be no leftovers, thanks to his gluttonous colleagues. And he doubted that Charlie had eaten much within the last twenty-four hours given that she often missed a meal when feeling overworked or distraught in any way.

However, he then mused to himself just _how_ emotional it was for Charlie the other night, how he had never seen her in such a state.

He had noticed Vaggie fidgeting with her spoon as she glanced up every now and then looking for Charlie, hoping she would appear soon, but not getting up.

Alastor doubted she would be joining them, and he doubted that it would be a good idea for him to visit her. If she was feeling drained, then company might not be on her mind just yet.

Even though Alastor and Vaggie seemed to be the only ones missing her that night, with Vaggie being a little more outward about it, dinner was quieter than usual. Too much so. Husk, Niffty, and Angel often took turns playfully tormenting each other. Instead, they all ate their meals in a silence that wasn't too uncomfortable, yet still not quite right.

After that night, Alastor had expected to see Charlie's lively, enthusiastic face the next day. She had gotten a few things for that recreation room of hers, and he knew that she must be dying to get to work on it.

A couple days passed and he had yet to see her, and he wondered if she was feeling more saddened than he realized. He had thought that he had helped ease her mind at least a little. She even _said_ that he had helped. Well…Not directly. She had specifically said, 'You think you haven't helped.' Which he assumed meant that he did. They even lightly jested about it.

It worried him enough to prompt him to pay a visit to her room. And after a few knocks, he received no answer. Hmm, it had been quite a few days now. Perhaps he ought to see if Vaggie knew where she-

He stopped that thought at once. Aside from how improper it would be to ask Charlie's lover where she was, it was also beneath him to willingly have conversation with someone so combative, and without the use of derisive language. He would get nowhere with that woman if he let a mocking insult slip. No, he would just have to happen upon Charlie in his own time.

And time passed ridiculously slowly, by nearly a week. So you can imagine the smile he tried to contain when Husk told him of her whereabouts.

He cleared his throat and flexed his neck as he walked up the stairs to the second floor, trying not to get too enthusiastic. Charlie seemed to be avoiding everyone still. She probably wanted to continue doing so, if for a little while longer.

He arrived at the conference room and raised his fist to politely knock. One could consider this a public room of the Hotel and not have a need for knocking, but it was a conference room. A room of privacy. Yes, that's why he knocked. That made sense.

"Uh, come in," a voice said, and Alastor couldn't help but smile widely at the invitation.

The conference room was extremely ostentatious. It had a high ceiling, a crystal chandelier, large rectangular windows, and even a projector and a pull-down screen. The table itself was big enough for a banquet hall, and the chairs were mahogany wood with cushioned seats.

Alastor glanced around the room until he spotted her. She was in one corner of the room, on a step ladder and putting stuff away on a tall shelf. He went over to her, and observed that she was putting away the items she had stored in the wicker basket from the thrift shop.

"So, this must be your designated recreation room now."

Charlie whipped her gaze downward. "Al," she exclaimed, and he was relieved to see a bright smile spread over her features. She seemed so surprised and happy to see him that the step ladder rocked a little. Completely of its own accord, his hand shot out to steady it.

"Thanks," she exhaled, loosening her hold on the ladder slightly once he had a grip on it. "And yeah. I've been looking around the Hotel the past day or two for the perfect place, and I think this is it. What do you think," she asked as she began stepping down, empty wicker basket in hand.

"Not bad at all, I'd say. Though, I hardly understand how this is supposed to redeem these parasites."

Charlie set the basket on an empty space on the shelf, right next to the vinyl collection. "It's not necessarily to redeem anyone. It's just a step in the right direction." She continued to talk as she gently took the ladder from him, folded it up, and leaned it against the wall. "It's just supposed to be a nice place to have fun, blow off steam, and to try to stay away from…well, sinning."

"I suppose," he shrugged dubiously. "I take it this is where you've been this past week."

She raised a brow at him. "Um, week?"

"Yes," he nodded. "We haven't seen much of you recently. I – We even missed you at dinner at the beginning of the week."

Charlie continued to look at him confusedly. "Uh, it hasn't been a week. More like, three or four days, I think."

His ever-present smile froze on his face. "Ah…Has it…? Is that what Husker meant…?" Charlie opened her mouth, but was interrupted by his loud laughter which…sounded odder than usual. "Well! Silly me! I suppose I must've lost track of time. How interesting! Normally I'm far more detailed than that. I wonder what could've happened."

Once again, Charlie opened her mouth, but he kept going.

"And to think I've been terribly bored these last few days. Repetitive reading, and music, and absolutely nothing to spice things up. And absolutely no work-related happenings from you. Why, I bet that's it! Not hearing your charming voice saying nonsensical redemption ideas and not seeing your lovely face for days on end and I beg of you to stop me, my dear!"

"It's okay," she chuckled lightly as she placed her hand on his arm to help him snap out of…whatever this was. "It's okay," she repeated with a small smile. She tucked her hair self-consciously behind her ear. "That was…really sweet of you to say those things." He was still looking at her with that frozen smile, but he relaxed enough to stop his rant.

He watched as her hand fell from his arm. He had no regard for personal space and was normally the one to initiate any contact with anyone. Hypocritically, he thoroughly detested the idea of someone initiating it towards him. He also detested when she took her hand away. This day was the very definition of 'curiouser and curioser'.

"And I'm sorry about dinner the other night," she continued. "I bet it was delicious. I could smell it all the way from my room."

He sighed, allowing his smile to relax just slightly. "I debated on whether or not to deliver some to you, but didn't think it proper."

"I would've liked that," she admitted, but frowned. "But…I really wasn't in the mood for seeing anyone. I just…needed a day or two to recharge, I guess."

"I gathered as much," he nodded. He inhaled and exhaled, letting the remaining insanity fade away, or as much as it could. "So," he said as he glanced around. "What more needs done here?"

She put her hands casually on her hips as she also looked around. "Well, I obviously don't want this to be a conference room anymore. So some stuff will have to go eventually." She paused, and looked at him. "What, uh, I mean...Never mind."

He chuckled at her. "Please. Do go on, my dear."

"Well," she said. "I don't know much about voodoo or magic, but…what all are you capable of?"

"Do you truly want an answer to that question, my dear? Must we spoil the mystery," he asked with a smirk, making her snort in response. "Let's start with by going back to my original question."

"Okay." She pointed to various things as she talked. "I eventually want that huge table out of the way. I suppose anyone could use it for eating, but we have a big enough table in the dining hall, so we don't really need this. I guess we can keep a few of the chairs, though. And then there's the carpet. There should be hardwood underneath it, and I'd rather have that. Ooh, and a giant, round rug to go over it. And I…think that's it for now."

He dipped his head at her in a slightly exaggerated nod. "Consider it done."

She smiled at him. "Thanks. I'll just be over here, still organizing these shelves. And also, you don't have to-"

"Of course I do," he said as he made his way towards the table, flexing his fingers anticipatorily. "I am co-owner, after all."

"Thank you."

Without looking back he said, "Not at all."

"No, really." The tone in her voice made him turn around. She was kneeling by the shelves, no longer smiling. She swallowed the lump forming in her throat. "I…I wanted to run and hide. I wanted to continue letting it eat at me. I was in a really bad place, the worst I think I've ever been, and somehow…You got me out of it."

He scowled slightly. "You still felt the need to hole yourself away afterwards."

She shook her head firmly. "That wasn't to hide. You need to know I've never felt…anything like that before. And I was just so exhausted."

Not knowing exactly how to respond to that, he hummed and nodded to at least give her acknowledgment.

"And just going with me, in general. I'm," she stopped to cringe a little. "I'm not always a big fan of going out in public. It doesn't always work out for me. That was one of the reasons why...m-mom and dad gave me Razzle and Dazzle, so I would have company as well some bodyguards.

"They didn't really do their jobs too well, though," she added with a shaky chuckle. "But I appreciated them nonetheless. And now…They're gone. And I don't know why, but I could take guesses…I guess. Anyway, I never thanked you for going shopping with me, and just helping me cope. So…Thank you," she murmured with a warm, genuine smile. Alastor smiled as well, that soft smile that he now seemed to reserve only for her.

Suddenly, her eyes widened. "Oh, I almost forgot." She reached up and took down the stack of vinyl. "We don't exactly have a record player in here yet. And I know you'll appreciate these. Will you keep these safe until we get one?"

He shook his head, ever so slightly whiplashed at the sudden change in tone. He walked over to her, took the vinyl from her hands, but didn't look at them. Instead, he was staring right into her eyes. Charlie tilted her head back, confused.

"I do hope you're not intentionally changing the subject."

Charlie smiled at him. "No. Really, I'm not. I mean, I'm gonna have good days and bad days, but…I think I'm okay for now. Thanks to you."

He hummed, searched her eyes some more, and nodded once to himself when he felt she was truly being honest.

Silently, he selected a vinyl, and gave the rest back to her. He snapped his fingers and a gramophone just a bit bigger than his own appeared on one of the chairs.

"Work tends to go a lot faster with music, wouldn't you say," he asked her with a grin as he walked over to it.

He heard her chuckle. "Definitely," she said. And then he could hear the shuffling of her working with the shelves.

He had picked this particular one at random, but was more than happy to play it, as he hadn't heard it in many years. He put it in place on the turntable and positioned the needle. Fast, upbeat swing music filled the cavernous room, its echo bouncing hauntingly and beautifully off the walls. He stole a look at Charlie, and he saw her smiling face and her head nodding along to the rhythm as she organized.

Happy that she approved, he began his work, his feet tapping along to the song every time he stopped walking.

With a click of his fingers, he could easily make everything that Charlie deemed unnecessary disappear, but then he'd be working too fast to enjoy the melody.

He lifted a hand and curled his fingers slightly, until voodoo-y symbols danced over his palm. The table was quick work, disappearing in a blink. He watched most of the chairs shrink and fade, save for a few as per Charlie's request.

Now onto the carpet. He watched as it tore itself off the floor and curled, until disappearing as well. He did this in sections on purpose, so as to have a need to move about the room. As he went from section to section, the song picked up and was now starting into the lyrics. He now moved his feet and legs elegantly and rapidly in time, as if simply walking anywhere was now overrated.

_Welcome to the other side_

_Don't mind the dust, come on inside_

_Dancin', swingin' is the game_

_We are all so glad you came_

_Welcome to the other side_

_Don't need much, set your life aside_

_Magic fills this empty hall_

_Come on down, you'll have a ball_

He had gotten done with nearly half of the room when he heard a chuckle. Grinning widely, he twirled around, swinging his arms in a showy motion and to give himself more momentum.

"Gawking, are we," he jested.

"No, no," Charlie said, putting her hand over her smiling mouth, a faint blush spreading on her cheeks at having been found out. "You just…look like you're having fun, is all."

"Quite! Why aren't you?"

"I am! I'm having fun watching you."

He rolled his eyes, and walked over to her. Charlie couldn't help but continue watching him. Even though he wasn't dancing anymore, his body still swayed to the beat. "I'm most certain it'd be more fun if you joined me," he grinned.

She looked sheepishly at the hand he was offering. "I've never danced to swing music before."

He laughed. "How miserable of an existence you've lead!" His grin widened devilishly. "You're a fast learner. I'm sure you can keep up."

She chuckled and nodded. "Okay." She took his hand. "What do I do?"

Smoothly, he pulled her in close, his arm wrapping comfortably around her upper back. "This goes here," he said as he placed her hand high on his shoulder. "And this," he took her other hand in his and gave it a squeeze. "goes here with me…And now, we dance."

_I got madness in my soul_

_It's dark as coal, but I'm in control_

_The lovely chill it always brings_

_I don't need much, no, not a thing_

There was no build-up, or time to breath. His footwork was fast and she had to look down to keep in time to match it.

_I bend this world in my hand_

_They all swoon like a swingin' band_

_Snap of the fingers, claim to fame_

_'Til you've forgotten your own name_

_I bop around this ghostly town_

_Never ever wear a frown_

_A dance partner is overrated_

_I highly doubt that you were fated_

The movements were all in-and-out motions. And their toes nearly kept kicking into each other, and Charlie felt her shoulders hunch in slight embarrassment, thinking her inexperience was causing it. Daring to look up from their fast limbs, she only saw an elated smile on Alastor's face. Whether tapping toes against each other was part of the dance, she didn't know, but he clearly didn't care.

_Welcome to the other side_

_Don't need much where we reside_

_We got magic, fills the town_

_Step aside, don't slow us down_

_Welcome to the other side_

_We all toss the world aside_

_Strings of fancy tempting words_

_My soul's been sold, have you not heard_

At some point, he swung them both outward, then in, and then he angled them until their hips briefly touched, before repeating it all over again. She laughed deliriously at this, and she no longer had to keep looking down to keep up with him. She kept her eyes on his face and just went with it. To a point where she didn't realize he was now letting her lead.

_Magic swirls around my life_

_Masking all the pain and strife_

_I sing my curses, dance with shadows_

_No such thing as a lonely fellow_

_Shadows fading by the day_

_Your light shoved them all away_

_Control, it fades into the black_

_It shows me now just what I've lacked_

He watched in pure delight at seeing her confidently take to this. He allowed her to swing them outward, touch hips, and spin them. His heart was pounding in his chest, and the room around them spun energetically.

_My soul awakens to the tune_

_The Hatter even calls me 'loon'_

_For once I shall try something new_

_Dancing's far more fun with you_

This was it! He didn't know what _it_ was, but this was it. This excitement, this thrill. This was what he'd been craving all these years!

_My soul's been sold, have you not heard_

_Hanging on your every word_

_My soul's been sold, do not deride_

_Welcome to the other side_

The dance didn't start with Charlie, but it is how it ended, with her gasping chest pressed tightly and securely against his own. Their breath came out quickly, a testament to their tomfoolery.

They stared at each other for quite possibly a ridiculous amount of time. And they hadn't let go of each other, both silently agreeing they very well could both collapse from exhaustion if done so.

Charlie's smile was bright, almost blinding. He had never seen such a smile from her before. And he had caused it, had caused such delight from her.

Yes.

This was it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Please Read** (Note: This may look weird reading it, depending on how the italics and bold turned out.)
> 
> * Disclaimer: For one, I don't think I ever gave the disclaimer. **I do not own _Hazbin Hotel_** '.
> 
> Also, the song in this chapter is called "A Dash of Voodoo", and it's a song that I made up. Hope you enjoy.


	10. And Curiosity Killed the Cat

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _* I referenced Cards Against Humanity. I do not own Cards Against Humanity. I also referenced Monopoly. I do not own Monopoly._
> 
> If you've never played Cards Against Humanity before, fair warning, it is not a family game.
> 
> Also, my computer's wifi was glitching while doing edits. I apologize for anything out of place.

They stood there for many minutes, long after the song faded and all was silent. The room still felt like it was spinning blissfully around them while they stood still. They had yet to look away, too busy studying the delight and exhilaration in each other's eyes.

Alastor's smile was so wide, the widest it's ever been. He exhaled slightly, almost too tired to fully chuckle. Not since first acquiring his voodoo talents when he was alive did he ever feel anything like this. Yes. This was it. He was sure of it. He wasn't sure what _it_ even was, though. All he knew was that it had something to do with the charming woman still gasping for breath in his arms.

This pulsing in his veins, this thrill, this elation, he'd been looking for it for so many years now. Nearly a century. Whatever this was, he didn't want to let go of this feeling. He didn't want to let go of her. Would the feeling fade if he did?

Why was she the cause of all this? How was she having this effect on him so profoundly? Why so sudden?

Except it wasn't sudden. Yes, there were times this Hotel got too quiet and boring, and in all honesty he should've left ages ago. Husk was sort of right. Logically, there really was nothing in it for him. However, every time this thought came to mind, Charlie would appear. She and him would then have some meeting or other to bounce ideas and subject matters off each other, and he would feel a lot less bored. The more they talked and interacted the…happier he felt. Happy was not a strong enough word or phrase, though none others came to mind. But that's what he was; genuinely happy.

Yes. Not sudden, not really. It was all a build-up, with their dance highlighting it. But a build-up of what, he didn't know. He didn't want it to end, though.

Charlie was having similar thoughts. Her legs were shaky from exertion, and she was glad she still had a grip on his shoulder and hand. Likewise, his hold on her also refused to loosen. His arm at some point had slid from her upper back to curl around her waist, causing them to end their dance pressed flush against each other.

These last few minutes had been so fast-paced, and it was an absolute challenge to keep up with him. She never minded a challenge, though. She also loved that this wasn't just another distraction for herself. These last several weeks she'd sought out so many different avenues in an effort to ignore the emotional hellishness in her mind.

This dance was pure fun, and nothing else. No other purpose.

This hotel was her passion, and she would always love it. But when was the last time she'd done anything for herself? Just for the fun of it?

For a moment, she felt incredibly selfish, almost feeling like she used Alastor. She studied his face, his breathless smile and exhilarated eyes. She almost sighed in relief. He'd clearly had fun, too. So much so that he'd yet to let go of her, for which she wasn't protesting one little bit.

The gramophone had gone silent a while ago, but the record was still spinning. The needle eventually jerked and scratched against the momentum, causing a harsh noise.

Alastor sighed, then chuckled slightly. "Well, I guess I ought to put a stop to that."

"Yeah," she sighed in slight disappointment. "No sense ruining a perfectly good vinyl."

For a split second, Charlie could've sworn that his hold on her waist had tightened. Then, his arm disappeared as he walked away. She nearly lost her balance at the loss.

Alastor scowled contemplatively as he worked with the gramophone, taking more time than necessary fidgeting with it.

Now that he'd let go of her, the feeling…didn't necessarily go away. Instead, it chose to rest at the back of his mind, still very much present, but allowing him to take a breather as he let himself settle back into a more relaxed and steady demeanor. Not that he wanted to relax from all that had just happened, but he felt it was needed in order to get a hold of his own thoughts, to gain a better understanding of the inner workings of his own mind. It did not do much good, as he still couldn't make sense of some things.

Charlie silently watched Alastor. She opened her mouth to say something, like how much she enjoyed herself just then, but then she heard voices coming from the hall.

"Good god, Angel," came Vaggie's exasperated voice. "No drugs!"

"Oh, come on," Angel Dust replied. "It ain't the kinda drugs you're thinking of. Not my good stash, no! These are purely medicinal."

"Oh, for fuck's sake," Vaggie muttered as her and Angel entered the room.

"I'm serious." He nudged her with his elbow, mostly to annoy her, but also to get her to listen for a second. The smile he wore was playful, but not deceitful. "You said it yourself. You haven't gotten a decent night's sleep in forever. There's this stuff I got, non-addictive by the way, that'll-"

He paused to look around the semi-finished room. "Well, shit, Charlie built us an over-glorified living room." He pointed in Charlie's direction. "Look at you finally spoiling us. I'm gonna go play with the projector!" He rubbed his hands conspiratorially together as he started going over to the electronic device that Alastor had set aside in a corner.

"No," Vaggie frowned deeply, grabbing the sleeve of his arm in an effort to stop him. "With our luck, you'll burn this place down." It was a weak effort, because he easily flicked her hand away. She was too tired to really verbally fight with him, and also Charlie had come over to hug her.

"I feel like I haven't seen you in ages," Charlie told her. "It's good to see you up and about. I take it that means you're feeling a little better?"

Vaggie grimaced slightly. "Not really, but I thought that getting up and moving would be worth a try." She glanced around. "Looks like you've been as busy as ever."

"Yeah, it's pretty great, huh," Charlie beamed at the room. "Me and Alastor did some shopping and-"

"You…and Alastor," Vaggie interrupted, her eyes darting to the demon in question. Alastor was still adjusting the gramophone it seemed.

"Yeah," she nodded. "He needed some groceries, so he came along."

Vaggie glanced once more at Alastor. Then, her voice dropped almost to a whisper. "You know he could've just made his groceries appear out of thin air, right? Why would he need to go on a shopping trip?"

Charlie paused a little at this. "Um…I…never really thought of that. Hmm…"

"What do you got going on here anyway," another deeper voice came from the doorway. Husk entered the room. "This place echoes. I could practically hear all that music all the way to the bar." He slumped onto one of the chairs.

"That's why we're here," Angel said, pointing to himself and Vaggie. "One minute it was quiet. The next, all we hear is loud jazzy band music. Shit," he hissed abruptly as something inside the projector loudly popped.

"And this is why we can't have nice things," Vaggie muttered with a slightly humorous smile.

"I swear I didn't do it," he whined. "It just…snapped or something."

"That was probably the bulb dying," Vaggie sighed as she went over to him. "Here, let me see."

"No, you'll get your turn after mine." He stood up and lifted the projector out of her reach. Vaggie wasn't even remotely interested in playing this game of keep-away with him. Instead, she rolled her eyes, threw her hands up in the air, and sat down on one of the chairs.

Charlie smiled at their bantering. Then, she cleared her throat. "Anyway, guys. I wish Niffty was here, but she's seen this place already, and she's coming back in a little while to drop off cleaning supplies. But welcome! Welcome to the Hotel's rec room!

"It's not much," she continued. "Alastor and I aren't even halfway done with it. But it's a start. I want there to eventually be weight lifting sets for physical exercise, and, ooh, maybe even hold yoga classes! I should write that down later. But for right now, anything goes. I'm thinking we could have game nights, and maybe even use that projector to have movie nights, too."

"You mean the one that Angel-"

"Yeah, thank you, Vaggie! We all know that I broke the projector. They didn't hear you the first couple times."

"Actually, that reminds me," Charlie interjected, looking at Angel, who was childishly holding a middle finger inches from Vaggie's face. "If you want to, you can bring a little bed in here for Fat Nuggets, and some of his toys. I want this place to be open to everyone-"

"Fat Nuggets is…fine where he's at right now," Angel interrupted, looking at her with something of a mix between a scowl and maybe even a glare. But the expression dropped as quickly as it came, and was replaced with his usual sassiness. "Alright, I'm bored," he exhaled as he stood up and waltzed over to the shelf where Charlie had some games stacked. "Let's see what kiddy games you're gonna make us play. Hey, and while you're over there, put on some music, Al. And none of that boring piano-y crap I've heard you play, either. Put on something fun."

Alastor was now leaning against the wall. He said nothing as he tapped the gramophone once. Though there was no record in place, some Benny Goodman started echoing through the room, which resulted in an approving 'Hell, yeah!' from Angel.

Charlie studied Alastor closely. He wore an expression that she couldn't quite read. It was almost like indifference, but not quite. When Alastor felt her eyes on him, he gave her that wide, genuine, soft smile that made her heart flutter. She almost put a hand to her chest at the feeling. Well, at least it wasn't that embarrassing blush that often flared up around him.

As she turned away from him to see what games Angel was messing with, she put a hand to her face to be certain. Nope, her face was warm as well. Damn it. Why was she reacting like this around him these days?

"What's that face for," Vaggie asked her with a slight chuckle that held a hint of concern.

"Oh, nothing," she responded almost too quickly. "Just…trying to figure something out, I guess?"

"You sure," Vaggie frowned. "You look kinda flushed." She shook her head at her. "You're probably just tired from doing all this," she gestured to the room.

"Maybe," Charlie muttered, even though she doubted that was the cause. "The renovation work is nearly done, though. Thanks to Alastor. All we need to do after that is to add stuff as needed."

They suddenly heard Angel's tsk of disapproval. "No, no, no," he shook his head at the shelf. He straightened up and turned towards the door. "If we wanna make this into a game night, we gotta do it right. Be right back." He disappeared into the hallway.

Charlie looked towards Alastor and Husk with a smile. "Do you two wanna join us? It'll be fun."

Alastor opened his mouth, but Husk interrupted.

"Actually," Husk said, ever begrudgingly, as he got out a deck of cards. "Last I checked, me and him didn't finish our last game of Blackjack. And you know how he is with deals." He scowled at Alastor. "Think you can make a card table appear?"

Alastor gave him a funny look. However, with his interest piqued, he waved his hand and a wooden card table appeared on the far end of the room. A few of the conference room chairs then gathered themselves around it.

"Husk is right, my dear. A deal is a deal," Alastor said, and gave her a smile. "Perhaps next time?"

"Yeah," she said, a little crestfallen. "Sure."

He didn't like the way her face fell and the way her shoulders sagged as she walked away. But if he were being honest, the trivialities of games deemed for children didn't seem very interesting to him. He supposed many people of all ages enjoyed such things, however, he didn't think he would. Still, he was honest in saying until next time. Why he was honest about that, he wasn't sure. The current matter at hand, though, was Husk.

Husk loved to gamble, but not against him. He joined Husk at the table, watching him deal the cards, and wondering what his old friend seemed to want from him.

"Now _this_ is how we kick off game night," Angel said as he reentered. He had a large black box in his hands, and also an excited Niffty at his heels.

As soon as Niffty entered the room, she dropped her cleaning supplies carelessly to the floor. "I wanna play, too!"

Vaggie and Charlie gathered around them to see what he brought. "'A party game for horrible people.'" Vaggie read aloud with a glare. "Just what every redemption hotel needs."

"How do you play," Charlie asked.

"Simple," Angel grinned as he went over to sit down on one of the remaining sections of carpet. When he saw that only Niffty had joined him, and she was practically clawing the box open, he rolled his eyes at Charlie and Vaggie. "Oh, come on, it'll be fun! Cherri and I play this all the time. Well…It's nearly impossible to play it with just two people, and Nuggets kept trying to eat the cards, but we made do. Come on! You know you're curious."

Charlie and Vaggie exchanged glances. Vaggie's was one of suspicion, and Charlie's was a humorous smile. With a sigh from Vaggie, they both sat down on the floor with Angel and Niffty.

"Rules are simple," Angel said as he started handing them cards. "Someone picks a card first, then everyone else picks their own card. Whichever card is funniest wins that round." He smirked sinisterly. "Quick tip…The dirtier, the better."

Alastor shook his head at such nonsense, and turned his attention back to the cards that Husk was dealing out.

"Alright," Husk exhaled as he sat down. "Let's get this over with. And can we bet something other than the usual?"

Alastor laughed at his suggestion. "What else are we supposed to gamble with?"

"Uh, maybe money like normal assholes?"

"Oh, what fun is that for me," Alastor said. "Plus, it would be less thrilling on your end, no?"

Husk grumbled, half-tempted to take the cards back and call it a night, but a couple things got the better of him. One, he actually did owe the tail end of a game of Blackjack to Alastor, and he'd be damned to owe him anything more than was necessary. Two, his gambling addiction never ceased. And three, he was masochistically curious enough to want to pick Alastor's brain.

So, he continued dealing the cards.

"So," Husk said with a hum in his voice. "How'd it go?"

"That's twenty-one," Alastor said, looking down at the cards. Husk grumbled as he took their cards to prepare for the next round. "Two more years for you. And how'd what go?"

"Nothing, nothing," Husk muttered innocently. He was also kind of annoyed. Alastor didn't do denial, which meant that he was deliberately keeping Husk in the dark on this one. But he was a silently nosy bartender, especially where Alastor was concerned. After all, he kind of had to keep tabs on him for his own sanity. As they continued their game, Husk watched Alastor closely.

Alastor had made friends with plenty of sinners over the years, but they were friends that he could mold and manipulate solely for his advantage. He never viewed anyone as his equal.

Except for maybe Charlie. He had all but made a beeline for this room to get to where Charlie was when Husk told him. He seemed to even go out of his way for her, even going so far as to let his shadows help with the Hotel, and to take orders from her. To Husk, that was as unreal as him ever playing a fair hand of cards with his buddies on poker nights.

There were so many advantages to Alastor being friends with Charlie that Husk would've never taken into account. He rarely bossed him around like he used to when he was first roped into working at the Hotel, he cooked meals almost every day which even he couldn't resist, and Alastor had a goal now. To help with this hotel.

When Alastor had aspirations, he could either be overbearing beyond comprehension, or just bearable to be around. These days, he was more than bearable, almost chipper. For some reason, somehow, Charlie was doing this horrific, terrifying, narcissistic demon a world of good.

It made Husk's life much easier, but he wasn't sure why. And that's why he actually wanted to play cards with him for once. Why did he hold Charlie, of all demons, in such high regard? She was all but angelic, especially compared to him. It made no damned sense.

Husk took an irritable swig from his beer. _Whoever coined the phrase 'curiosity killed the cat' can fuck off_ , he thought to himself.

After Alastor won the next couple rounds, Husk finally gave up, and they switched to Texas Hold 'em.

Alastor was happy for this change of pace. This game required a lot more patience on Husk's end, which meant that he could relax some, and get lost in thought, further than he already was, that is.

Now that his and Charlie's dance was over and done with and that quite some time had passed, he still expected that wonderful, thrilling feeling to fade. He was absolutely thankful it was still there in the back of his mind, still very much present. It was simply a little subdued, so much so that he could now think more clearly. He really should be using that focus for the card game, but he kept looking out the corner of his eye. He felt his smile widen a little.

Charlie sat on the floor with Angel, Niffty, and Vaggie. They all took turns swapping cards on and off the floor. They all smiled and giggled scandalously with each card that was used. At some point, Charlie had shoved Vaggie's shoulder playfully at something she'd said, resulting in them both smiling comically at each other.

Alastor's smile faltered, and he was alarmed when he felt something in the pit of his stomach that didn't sit well with him. Why would interaction between Charlie and Vaggie bother him in this instance? However, the feeling quickly and blessedly faded the more he observed.

Charlie and Vaggie smiled and laughed alongside each other, but something was amiss. They were sitting close, but with a glaring couple inches of distance between them. And they weren't focused on each other so much as they were focused on the game.

He hummed thoughtfully under his breath. Charlie and Vaggie had known each other for quite some time, possibly a few years. Alastor knew how close they usually were. Yet, lately, he hadn't seen them together much. Of course, Vaggie had been rather sleep deprived these days. So that would make sense.

Husk played a hand full of matching suits. "There goes that round," he chuckled haughtily at Alastor. "That's three years off." He took Alastor's cards, shuffled the deck, and dealt them again.

That was the second round in a row that Husk had won. He really should be focusing on the game.

However, his attention was yet again brought back to the blonde sitting cross-legged on the carpet. Her laughter at whatever card was played made his heart do a frenetic skip that couldn't be ignored, even if he wanted to.

Every now and then, Charlie seemed to win a round by hoarding a particular stack of cards. Though, Alastor didn't know the rules of their game, so he wasn't too sure. Either way, they were all having a grand time.

At some point, their game ended, with Niffty winning with the most cards. Angel more or less had to wrestle the cards out of her grasp in order to put them back into the box, while Vaggie went to the shelf to get their next game.

"Hey," Husk snapped his fingers in front of his face. "You gonna play your hand or what?"

"Oh, yes," Alastor blinked, realizing then and there that his focus had been on Charlie for long enough. He put his cards on the table. "Royal flush. Five years."

"Fuck," he snapped loudly. "You weren't even paying attention! How did you…"

Husk trailed off, backtracking. 

The entire night, Alastor hadn't been focused on betting or playing at all. Which was insane given his sick satisfaction for betting against him. He kept stealing glances at Charlie, like he wanted to be involved in their games.

Or at least, that's what Husk had thought at first. Even though he'd probably find those games boring and not competitive enough, he still looked like he wanted to join. And Husk knew that if Alastor wanted to leave their game, nothing was stopping him. He had never heard of Alastor having a friend he genuinely wanted to spend time with. Husk just thought this was some weird social awkwardness on his part.

Husk sank back in his chair, face going blank.

"Will you still play what's in your hand, or do you fold," Alastor asked, gesturing to the cards still loosely hanging in Husk's claws.

Husk let the cards fall to the table, revealing a couple of useless numbers and one random joker.

Alastor's focus the entire night hadn't been on any games, on any bantering, and all of his betting was half-hearted. His focus was all on Charlie. No one else. Nothing else.

Every time she laughed or chuckled, every time she won a round, a smile would immediately appear on Alastor's smug face. Actually, there wasn't a hint of smugness. His eyes and smile were relaxed, almost…kind.

"What the fuck," Husk muttered under his breath. In all his years of knowing this murderous lunatic, not once, not ever, did he ever describe Alastor the Radio Demon…as kind.

And no one smiled like that around someone who just wanted to be friends. No way in hell.

"What…the fuck," he repeated in pure astonishment.

"I beg your pardon," Alastor's brow rose. "And might I say, you look rather unwell, my friend."

"Unwell," he muttered. Then, a loud, single, almost obnoxious laugh escaped him. "I ain't the one who's _sick_ , are we? If you know what I mean." He shoved his face into his hands, wheezing hysterically into them. When he lifted his head back up, it was with a bewildered smile. "Damn, I bet you never saw this coming, did ya? I sure as shit never did! I mean, _you_ of all people?! A-and towards her," he pointed in Charlie's direction. He let out another laugh.

Alastor blinked at this odd behavior. "I don't follow."

"Oh, fuck yeah, you do," Husk wheezed. "You ain't gotta lie to me. We're _friends_ , remember? Shit," he exhaled, his laughter finally coming to an end. "Ah, shit, I haven't found something that funny in ages. But seriously, it's no wonder you been acting weird." He paused to fidget with his empty beer bottle. He opened his mouth, ready to say it sucks that Charlie's already taken, to show a little bit of that bartender sympathy…Until he saw Alastor's face.

One of his eyebrows was raised in question, and there was a confused scowl that blended with his trademark smile.

Husk scoffed slightly, all humor fading. "Wait…Are you shittin' me right now?"

"Husker," Alastor said slowly, as if Husk was the one who was slow on the uptake. "I have absolutely no idea what it is that you are getting at." He leaned back casually in his chair. "Do enlighten me."

Husk immediately slapped both of his hands to his face. "Are you shittin' me right now," he repeated into his palms.

Alastor wanted to question further, but Husk stood up so abruptly that his chair knocked against another. "You know what," he said in utter exasperation. "I don't got enough alcohol for this. Not enough alcohol in _all_ of Hell. You," he pointed at Alastor. "are on your own for this kinda shit. I ain't that kinda bartender. Good fucking luck!"

Alastor watched as Husk began walking away. He had absolutely no idea what any of that was from Husk, but clearly, given his dramatic reaction, it was none of his business. He may ask about it later, just to torment him, but for now, business was business.

"Eight years, by the way," he said.

Husk stopped in the doorway, head and shoulders sagging exasperatedly. "What?"

"To your debt," Alastor responded. He hummed a little. "Not my personal best. I wasn't too terribly focused on our games today."

"Oh, no kidding," Husk groaned. "We been playing for hours. How the fuck were you even keeping track of it all?"

"I don't ever forget one's debt to me, Husker. Yours especially."

"Whatever. How many years total am I up to now?"

"I said I don't ever forget one's debts. I don't have an exact number."

Husk's jaw dropped in bewilderment.

Alastor laughed at this, like it was one big joke. "Of course I keep track of every single year, Husker! How else would I know if and when your debt runs out?" Then, he stopped laughing to smirk cruelly at Husk.

Husk's hands flailed. "I…Just…I can't tell if you're fucking with me right now, goddammit! Man, fuck you!" After flipping him the bird, he disappeared out the door.

Alastor laughed in Husk's direction, unsure what that was all about, but entertained nonetheless. He stood up, and clicked his fingers. The cards that were scattered on the table gathered themselves back into the pack. The pack disappeared, and should reappear on Husk's bar counter.

He went over to the gramophone to put on another vinyl, as Charlie and everyone else were still playing their game.

"Wait, wait, wait," Vaggie said, looking down at the board. "Why did you just collect four hundred dollars?"

"'Cause I just passed Go," Angel said.

"That's two hundred dollars."

"Yeah, if you land on the Go To Jail space," Angel explained as if it were obvious. "But if you breeze right passed it, you get four hundred. A little consolation bonus for dodging the police."

Vaggie smacked her forehead. "What…no…how…?"

Angle shrugged in defense. "Hey, I don't make the rules."

"Nobody knows the rules," Niffty muttered, fanning herself with crinkled and ripped fake dollar bills.

"Yeah, and nobody's gonna be able to finish this game," Angel scowled. "Aside from the fact that we got stuff missing," he paused to yawn. "It's getting late." He stood up, taking his card game with him. "It's my day off tomorrow, which means I want as much time as possible to goof off."

"God forbid you lose sleep over it," Vaggie muttered at him.

"Glad we agree," Angel smirked. Then, he pointed at Charlie. "When's the next game night?"

"Uh," Charlie stammered a little. She looked around to see their faces eagerly awaiting her answer. "…Same time next week?"

"Yes," Angel pumped his fist. "Oh, and we should totally have movie night the day before. I'll be in charge of it."

"No," Vaggie said firmly. "That'd be an employee's job. And you're not-"

"I may as well be at this point," he snickered. "Not like you can redeem this hot mess. Emphasis on hot."

"Just…get out of here," Vaggie sighed. "Don't you have beauty sleep to catch up on?"

He gasped, and then arrogantly adjusted his hair. "Why, that was almost a compliment, Vags. I'm proud of you! But you don't have to tell me I'm beautiful. I know that already. Have fun cleaning all this up," he said, pointing to the game board as he took his leave. He paused in the doorway, looking at Vaggie again. "Ooh, and let me know when you want some of those sleeping pills." With that, he left for the night

"Don't worry," Niffty said as she stood up and looked around. "I'll help you clean all this. Just gotta find my cards first." At some point, Niffty had stolen her cards back from Angel, deeming them to be hers, but it looks like he might've snagged them back from her.

Niffty pointed accusingly out the door. "He's got my cards!" She took off at high speed into the hallway.

They could hear Angel screeching, "What the fu-", followed by a loud crash and the sound of cards flying everywhere.

Charlie and Vaggie chuckled at all the commotion.

" _I'll_ help you clean all this up," Vaggie offered.

"You sure," Charlie asked. "It's only a couple game pieces. And you should probably get back to sleep."

Vaggie sighed, knowing she was right. But she stood up and headed for the shelves. "I'll at least clean up those shelves. Angel fucked it all up, and I know what order you like those kinds of things to be organized in."

"Thanks," she smiled.

Vaggie gave her a tired, but genuine smile in return.

Charlie got to work putting the game away.

She had so much fun with everyone tonight. Niffty didn't feel the need to clean anything, Angel was relaxed and social, and even Vaggie had enough energy for her competitive edge. Then, Charlie sighed, her smiling slipping.

She couldn't remember the last time her and Vaggie had this much fun together. Charlie mostly blamed herself, given how busy she was. However, she had hoped that once they had the free time to really enjoy each other's company that it wouldn't feel this…bittersweet. She didn't know why, but things between them just felt so detached.

She shook her head quickly. No, both her and Vaggie were currently going through something. Though, she wished they could work it out together, she knew that Vaggie sometimes needed her space during times like these. She just didn't know how much longer this slump of theirs would last.

Her thoughts were interrupted by the sound of fabric slowly ripping.

She looked to the other side of the room to see Alastor back to his original task of removing the carpet. He was humming under his breath to the tune of the song that was currently playing.

Charlie closed up the game box, set it on a chair so Vaggie wouldn't feel the need to put it away, and walked over to him.

"Hello, my dear," he greeted. He dropped his hand and the voodoo symbols around his fingers vanished. "A fun first game night, I'd wager?"

"Yeah," she said. "I couldn't have asked for a better one."

He nodded. "You deserved it, considering all the hard work you've put into it."

"Hardly," she shook her head. "You're the one doing all the renovations. And speaking of which, you can stop for tonight. Maybe pick it up again later?"

He quirked a brow at her. "I'm not one to leave work unfinished."

"No, it's fine. Really. Besides, I probably exhausted you with our dancing. I can't imagine how tired you feel."

"Tired," he asked with a laugh. "If anything I feel energized! I quite enjoyed our dance."

"Me, too," she smiled at him, that wonderful bright smile he was becoming far too attached to. "I didn't even know I could dance that fast. Thank you for teaching me."

"Please, my dear. The pleasure was all mine." He glanced at the unfinished carpet with a sigh. "Very well. Seeing as we probably won't be using this room until the next game night, I supposed I could come back to it later. But what of you?"

"I've still got some things to do yet." She paused a little. "Something that should've been done a while ago."

He tilted his head. "Do you…perhaps need assistance?"

Charlie blinked, slightly taken aback by his hesitancy, as if he shouldn't even offer out of respect for her.

She shook her head once. "No, this is something…I gotta do on my own." She rubbed one of her arms.

Noticing this gesture, and hearing how small her voice had become, realization dawned on him. "Ah, I see." He smiled softly at her. "Well, _should_ you need my assistance, you know where to find me."

"I know."

"Charlie," he said, and it was in such a gentle tone. "I mean it."

"Yes, yeah," she murmured. "I know."

He caught something out the corner of his eye, and his smile widened into something not quite readable. "Your lover is staring holes into my back, which tells me I should take my leave. Have a good night, my dearest."

"Yeah," she exhaled as she watched him leave. "You, too."

As soon as he was gone, she put her hand to her forehead. From the gentle tone in his words, to the way he said her name, and to the way he said 'dearest', she was feeling slightly delirious. 'Dearest' was a new one, wasn't it? Or…Surely he'd said that to others at some point. He always gave terms of endearment to everyone, even when there was nothing endearing about it. Surely this was no different.

…Was it?

"What was that all about," Vaggie asked, snapping her out of her reverie.

"Oh," Charlie responded, and went back to stand near Vaggie. "Nothing. We were just discussing the things we did today."

"Yeah," Vaggie muttered, glancing once at the carpet. "He…seems really eager to help you out."

She shrugged with a smile. "That's what co-owners do. We're supposed to help each other."

"Even as much as he is," she asked skeptically.

Charlie's shoulder sagged. "You still don't trust him."

"Why would I when he seems so eager to take over?"

"Vaggie-"

"Look." Vaggie dropped her hands from the shelves. "I'm way too tired to fight you on this, but I need you to listen to me." She clasped her hands gently on Charlie's upper arms. "You still need to be careful around him. He uses his shadows to guard the Hotel, and now he's even helping you renovate. Why would he go out of his way to do something nice for someone if there isn't anything in it for him? You need to be careful."

Without waiting for a response from Charlie, she dropped her hands and started walking away.

She stopped at the door. "He said the other day that he cared about you. What a load of shit. Everyone in Hell knows that he only cares about himself. He's clearly trying to schmooze his way into whatever he's planning. We can't trust him, Charlie. And you know it." Vaggie then disappeared out the door.

Charlie flinched slightly at the unintentional slam it made.

So much had happened within the last several hours, and she struggled to keep her thoughts straight, especially with Vaggie saying that Alastor cared about her. Her head swam, everything blurring together, and she just needed it all to stop for a second so that she had enough emotional energy for what she had to do next.

"Okay," she said to herself as she picked up the game box from the chair. "Okay, okay," she repeated as she put it back on the shelf. She took a few deep breaths, put everything on the back-burner, and left the room. But not before grabbing an empty cardboard box from the room's storage closet.

\-------

As centered as she could, Charlie sat in the middle of the entryway of the Hotel. The cardboard box sat in her lap as she stared blearily at all of her family photos.

She didn't like being there, surrounded by the smiling faces of her parents. Of once happy memories. But she didn't feel the need to run or to sob. That was good, she supposed. Not perfect, but good.

Nothing had to be perfect. Not her, not her friends, not even the Hotel. Everything just had to be…okay. And she wasn't okay. She hadn't been okay for a long time. However, this last week, and today especially, had proved to her that she could be.

That was enough for her.

Sniffling, she curled a little to wipe her eyes against her sleeve. And also to give herself the momentum to stand back up.

Just like how Alastor had taken it one section of carpet at a time, she took it one section of wall at a time. One by one, the pictures were taken down, and were set neatly and gently into the box. Most of the photos were of just her and her parents. Some, however, depicted get-togethers with other royals, and a few of her mom's magazine covers. That was only to name a few as there was so much more.

She didn't feel much as she removed them. That was normal in her case. She had trained herself long ago to not get too emotional in the moment. Not only was she a royal then and had to act as such, but doing so would only subject her to even harsher ridicule from other demons. She knew that wasn't even remotely healthy, of course, and even though she wasn't a royal anymore it was hard to kick a habit like that.

It didn't take long at all for that small box to fill up. And she had only taken down about twenty pictures so far.

As if on cue, another empty box plopped down next to that one. A large carrier box or tote of some kind with wine glass insignias on it. Charlie looked sharply to her side to see Husk. He was looking at her very neutrally, no hint of grumpiness or annoyance, or any emotion really.

Charlie sighed. "With me putting away all these photos…I guess that means you've caught on."

Husk shook his head. "Heard you and Alastor talking in the hallway a couple days ago."

Charlie only nodded somberly at that. She looked at the box. "Thanks, but…I think I'm done for today. I'll…" She trailed off, looking around at the many remaining photos she still had to take down. "I'll take down more of these…when I…um…"

Husk shrugged. "You see me telling you to rush?" He sighed. "People suck, huh?"

She gave an emotionless, empty chuckle at that.

With a grunt, he took the box back and headed towards his bar. "This'll be behind the counter when you need it next." He stopped walking for a second. "I'll, uh, collect more, 'cause one wimpy box ain't gonna cut it."

"Thanks, Husk, really."

"You're making Alastor more bearable," he suddenly said as he threw the box behind his counter. "Don't know how, but I do know why. And it ain't none of my business." He started walking away to get ready for bed. Before he got out of sight, he added in monotone, "That's…my shitty way of saying thank you…I guess."

Charlie watched him leave with a small smile. "You're welcome."

She brought the box full of pictures into her arms, and lugged it all the way to her bedroom. She didn't know where to safely store them, because that's what she wanted. She still retained these memories, and she wanted them to be safe, not matter how she felt about it now.

She set the box in one of her closets, an empty one that she had yet to use for anything. She closed the door slowly.

There were so many more pictures that had to be taken down. She could do it little by little if need be. Either way, they needed to come down.

She almost wished she had taken a picture of her and her friends playing games tonight. Because she was hoping to eventually use all that empty wall space for pictures just like that.


	11. An Explanation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * **Please Read**  
>  I just wanted say thank you, because I've yet to do that. Thank you, all of you, for the wonderful reviews and support that you've given for my fanfiction so far. I appreciate your constructive criticism, your positivity, and just hearing your thoughts in general. I enjoy and appreciate everyone's reviews. Once again, thank you.
> 
> Also, I know that the characters of Hazbin Hotel have instagram accounts. However, I haven't found anyone who was able to confirm whether these were official accounts or not. Therefore, I have to take it with a grain of salt.
> 
> **Note: I referenced the ADDICT music video in this.**
> 
> Also, fair winning, this chapter is a bit of an emotional roller coaster.

Angel Dust was running. And he couldn't stop for second, or else it would catch him.

He skidded to a halt at an intersection in the hallways. Panting heavily, hoping to catch his breath, he swiveled to face different directions, trying to find the best route to keep his pursuer from catching up to him.

Distant hooves thudded, getting ever closer.

"Aw, crap," he huffed as he took off again, not caring which route.

He took a wrong turn because it was a hallway that made a U, and he didn't know that he was now heading straight for the creature on a collision course.

His back met the wall with a dull thump when a small force dove straight for his midsection. As he fell all the way to the floor, he cried out, "No! No! It's got me! Somebody save me! It's killing me! I'm dying! Aaaaaand…" The back of his head slowly met the floor while he closed his eyes in anguish. "Dead." His body went slack. He stuck his tongue out for good measure.

A silence fell upon the hallway, only occasionally being broken by tiny, concerned snorts.

He felt hooves carefully plodding up his body. He didn't move until he felt a wet snout nudge over his eyelids. A smirk spread over his face. Sitting up abruptly, he wrapped all four of his arms around his attacker, resulting in a surprised but delighted squeal from it.

"That's right, you caught me," he said, smiling widely, his voice taking on a coddling tone. The little pig in his lap made another squeal as it squirmed triumphantly in his arms. "Huh? Did you," he continued as he scratched the smooth ears. "Did the scary monster catch daddy? He did, didn't he? Scary, scary monster." Angel stood up, lifting him with him to let him lick under his chin to his little heart's content.

"Alright," he said after a bit, placing Fat Nuggets back on the floor. He whined in protest, putting his front hooves on Angel's leg and scratching gently. "No, Nuggs," he smiled, shaking his head. "It's your turn now." He slowly turned around to face the wall, slow enough so that the pig had enough time to put his hooves back on the floor without stumbling. "I think I'm gonna count to…twenty. You ready?"

Fat Nuggets made a sporadic hopping motion, and his eyes narrowed deviously.

Angel grinned. "That's my boy. And…Go!"

Fat Nuggets turned so sharply that he skidded on the carpet, almost bouncing his chin off the floor. After getting the necessary traction, he took off in a blur through the Hotel.

Angel chuckled at this for a second. He put his arm on the wall and pressed his eyes against his sleeve. "One...two…three…fo-" His counting came to a halt when he heard stumbling, followed by a loud crash and a sharp, startled squeal.

Angel Dust was running again. He was running so hard and so fast his boots echoed against the carpeted floors.

When Fat Nuggets came into view, Angel didn't bother skidding to a halt. Instead, he let his shoulder slam against the wall in order to stop. He saw a bunch of papers scattered everywhere, with Fat Nuggets and Niffty practically buried in it.

Angel let out a sigh of relief. "Well, that's my heart attack for the day. C'mere." He knelt down. Fat Nuggets perked up and walked towards his open arms.

"Damn it, Angel!" Niffty was peeling papers off her face and out of her hair, all while growling under her breath. "We had a deal!"

Angel rolled his eyes. "You said that he couldn't be in my room while you cleaned it." He stood up, holding Fat Nuggets in one of his sets of arms while he used his other hands to pet him and pluck a wad of paper from one of his spikes. "Well, he ain't in my room, now is he? He's in the hallway."

"Ugh," Niffty grunted as she gathered up her papers. "Stupid, icky barn animal."

"Hey! He ain't icky," he exclaimed with a glare. "And he ain't stupid," he added, bending down to snatch up some of the papers as well. "Aside from the fact that pigs are some of the smartest animals in existence, they're also one of the cleanest. How do I convince…you…that…" He trailed off as he stared at the papers in his hand.

The word 'Resume' was printed at the top of each one.

He scoffed a little as he gave them to Niffty. "So, uh, what," he asked, unable to hide a scowl. "This place too much for you? Or did you suddenly run out of things to do? 'Cause no offense, but where else are you gonna find a place as big and dusty as this to go apeshit on?"

"Gotta think ahead," she said with a shrug, neatly stacking the papers together in her hands by tapping the edges with her fingers.

Angel shook his head, unsure of what to make of this. "But…you like it here. And ain't you in debt to Al or something?"

She nodded. "So long as he's co-owner, but Charlie's been disowned, so who knows how long that's gonna last. Actually," she paused to tap her chin. "It's all a bit more complicated than that. I'm indebted to him either way-"

"Woah, woah, back up," he said in a rush, not wanting to believe what he just heard. "Charlie's been _what_?"

"Oh. Disowned. Anyway, what I was saying about being indebted to Alastor. When I died-"

"Just…stop for a second! W-what makes you think Charlie's been disowned," he asked, unable to keep the slight stammer out of his voice.

"Husk told me," she explained casually, as if it were everyday conversation. "I saw Charlie taking down her family photos in the foyer the one day – You should see it. Like, half of them are gone. It makes the walls look so uneven, it's driving me crazy! Ooh, off-track again. So, I asked Husk about it, and he told me. And then I told him, 'Wow. This sounds like one hell of a secret. You must really trust me.' Then, he started to bang his forehead against the bar because I don't think he realized Charlie wanted it to be a secret. I mean, why wouldn't she wanna keep this a secret? It's so humiliating! Damn it, I got off topic again! So, anyway, I first met Alastor when-"

"Don't care," he said, shoving a hand inches in front of her face to get her to stop her gibbering.

He started pacing, scrubbing his hands over his face. In his other set of arms, Fat Nuggets nudged the tops of his hands concernedly, to which he ignored, and that wasn't easy given how much he doted on the little pig.

"You know what," he said suddenly, almost snapping. "I gotta find Charlie."

He breezed past Niffty, almost knocking into her. Before he could disappear down the hallway, he could hear her muttering to herself. "This sucks," she was saying. "I really did like it here."

Angel stopped.

He glanced back at Niffty, and then at the expanse of hallway in front of him.

With a heavy sigh, he turned around.

"You know," he said, getting Niffty's attention. He paused a little to rub the back of his neck, unsure really of what to say. Then, he pointed to the papers. "Maybe….you oughta not pass those out just yet." He glanced around the hallway with a bitter scowl. "Seems to me like we're the last to know."

"You think so," she asked.

Angel nodded. "Charlie and Vaggie haven't been real close lately, but let's be real here, Vags would be the first to know. And if Husk knows, then so does Alastor. Husk talks a big talk, but he's scared shitless of Al."

Niffty tilted her head. "That…makes sense."

"Look," he continued. "All I'm saying is, Al's the one who roped you into this. Talk to him about it. I love gossip as much as the next bitch, but this…" He stopped for a moment, shaking his head slowly. He hadn't realized his hold on Fat Nuggets had tightened ever so slightly. "This ain't good." A resolute frown set on his face. "That's why I gotta go find Charlie."

Niffty flexed her jaw, and she looked down at the papers in her hands. Then, she folded them up and put them in a skirt pocket. "Yeah. You're right. And I should go find Alastor. Thanks, Angel."

"For what," he asked confusedly.

She hummed an 'I don't know' as she walked away.

\-------

Angel expected nothing less when Fat Nuggets began squirming irritably in his arms. He enjoyed being held, but only to an extent. That's why Angel loved him. Stubborn and sassy.

As Fat Nuggets kept pace next to his ankles, they headed straight for the entryway of the Hotel. According to Niffty, Charlie was busy these last few days there. And of course, there she was, still in the process of taking down her family photos.

Angel paused to glance around. She still had some ways to go, but most of the walls were bare now. Charlie herself seemed to be doing okay. As okay as possible, that is. Her face seemed neutral, with her eyes just showing a hint of a few unshed tears. Other than that though, she moved from picture to picture with a calm composure.

Angel shook his head with a scowl. Maybe royals just showed their emotions in weird ways. Hell, he didn't know. Nor did he know how to respond. He came here with a purpose, to confront Charlie, but he faltered at seeing all this, now unsure of how to continue.

Charlie paused her work when she noticed someone was watching her. She looked in Angel Dust's direction. With a slight smile, she opened her mouth, more than likely to politely greet him, but then she suddenly looked down.

She gasped, crouching down. "Fat Nuggets!"

Before Angel could stop him, the little pig ran straight for Charlie. Angel cringed sharply, watching as he dove full speed towards her. "Uh, just...! He sometimes-" He immediately stopped the string of self-conscious words.

He expected Fat Nuggets to knock her to the ground. Instead, she stayed upright as he barreled into her, completely unfazed by his boisterousness.

Charlie snuggled Fat Nuggets in her arms, almost smothering him. Fat Nuggets eyes were squinted as he took in all the attention, very much happy.

Angel didn't realize he had outstretched one of his hands toward them until he let it drop. He let out something of a mix between a chuckle and an exhale. A sound of relief.

"He, uh," Angel said with an uncertain smirk. "He likes you."

"Yeah," Charlie smiled back, widely. "We kinda bonded not too long ago. While you were working the one night, he escaped from your room. All of a sudden, I looked down and there he was, staring up at me. I think he'd been following me around for sometime before I realized it."

Angel winced sharply. "Yeah, he's, uh, pretty quiet. And…you didn't mind."

Her smile widened good-naturedly. "Mind? I thought it was great! He kept me company while I finished the task I was on. I wish you'd let him roam around more often. Ooh, he could be like our cute little mascot! Huh," she asked Fat Nuggets as she bumped her nose with his snout. "What do you think of that?"

With one last chuckle, she set him down. "Okay, go back to Angel Dust now." Obediently, Fat Nuggets wasted no time in trotting back to Angel. He looked up at him, as if seeking approval for something. Angel gave him a shaky half-grin.

"He's such a good listener, too."

"Yeah…He wasn't always." Angel sighed, getting lost in thought.

"So, anyway. I remembered how much you don't like him leaving your room when you're not here. So I put him back soon after I realized he'd been following me…"

Angel stopped listening to her. He bent down and pet Fat Nuggets' head. Slowly, carefully.

Then, another bitter scowl split his face. He had straightened up so fast he felt his joints click. "So are we still living here or what?"

Charlie immediately stopped talking, taken aback by the demanding and livid tone that she'd never heard from him before. She tilted her head. "What-"

"'Cause I gotta know if we gotta find new digs." He crossed his arms, attempting indifference. "I got enough money. We can go wherever we want. So give it to me straight."

Charlie shook her head slowly, eyebrows scrunched together. "I…have no idea what you're talking about. Why would-"

"They disowned you, right?"

There was a long silence. Charlie tried to swallow the lump forming in her throat.

He looked around with a loud scoff. "This place belongs to 'em, right? And now they left you to rot. So just let me know when dear mommy and daddy are gonna kick us out of this crappy hotel."

He hadn't looked at Charlie for a good few minutes. Instead, he opted to keeps his eyes on Fat Nuggets. He knew the words he just threw at her were harsh, and he was trying to convince himself he didn't care. Why should he? At the end of the day, it was just him and Fat Nuggets. Always had been.

He heard Charlie let out a long, shaky sigh. "This place doesn't belong to them."

His spiteful resolve crumbled a little, enough to make him look at her. Tears dripped slowly and silently down her cheeks. That was the only evidence of sorrow. Her eyes, face, and overall composure were actually…neutral.

"What," he asked her.

She sighed again, shoulders sagging. "This place doesn't belong to my parents. Not anymore. I had saved up enough money for them to loan it to me. Then…By the time the Hotel was ready to open, I had paid them the rest of the owed amount."

Angel looked away again, crossing his arms.

"This hotel is in my name. It always will be. Even if…" She paused. "N-never mind. The point is…"

She took one step forward, trying to meet his gaze. His scowl deepened when she made eye contact. "You and Fat Nuggets have a home here," she said, looking him straight in the eyes.

He stared at her, arms still crossed, and a defensive frown still on his face.

Then, he let her words finally sink in. The frown faded little by little. He kept his arms crossed, but without the tension they'd had nearly this whole conversation. He rubbed the tips of his fingers against his eyes. "I hope…you ain't pulling my leg," he muttered.

"I'm not," she said. "Believe me. If anyone didn't have a home here, you'd all know about it." She chuckled lamely. "After all…I'd be out on my ass, too."

His scoff was almost a chuckle. "As if. You got Vaggie. _And_ you're friends with the Strawberry Pimp. You think anyone'll fuck with either of 'em?"

They laughed for a moment. Half-hearted, but laughter nonetheless.

"Alright," Angel said, looking down at Fat Nuggets with a tired smile. "Let's head to bed."

"You know," Charlie said, making him stop before they walked away. "Given that you don't like to leave him alone that often, if you ever want someone to babysit him, I'd love to."

He raised a brow. "You…would?"

Her smiled widened. "Of course!"

He glanced down at Fat Nuggets. "I'll, uh…I'll think about it."

\-------

Angel looked down at Fat Nuggets with a sad frown. He was normally a bundle of misbehaving energy, never afraid to run around and cause mischief. Instead, the little pig stayed close to him, happily trotting along with him back to his bedroom.

Angel had no one to blame but himself. He'd kept him sheltered for so long now, even before the Hotel. And now that they were here, he should want to give him more leeway, because that's what he deserved. Fat Nuggets deserved everything in his eyes.

At the studio where he used to work, he often took Fat Nuggets with him to hang out in his dressing room, especially during the times where they didn't have any other place to stay. Everyone at the studio adored the little pig, cooing and coddling him every chance they got. Fat Nuggets was a little rebel, too. He had figured out how to climb onto Angel's vanity, turn the doorknob, escape, and roam around the studio, getting pets and cuddles from everyone.

All it took…was for Valentino to trip over him. Once.

Angel immediately tensed, a cold shiver racing down his spine. He shook his head quickly, trying to forget that particular day.

To forget _any_ day involving Valentino.

However, if anything good came out of it – using _good_ loosely – it prompted him to actually save up his money for something other than drugs, and to get a place of his own. It was a dingy, seedy little apartment, and he occasionally had to suck the landlord off, and he hated that he could no longer bring Fat Nuggets to work anymore.

But Fat Nuggets was safe there. Angel didn't give a damn about anything else.

He didn't want a repeat of the studio incident.

He didn't want anyone to think he was a burden.

He didn't want anything to happen to him. Because aside from Cherri…Fat Nuggets was all he had.

Then, they moved into the Hotel. Away from that apartment, away from the studio.

Away from Valentino.

Today was the first day in a long time that they'd roughhoused like they'd used to. For the first time in a long time, he saw Fat Nuggets be his mischievous, trouble-making self.

They were safe here. That was why they'd had their crazy game of tag in the hallways today. Angel was finally ready to give him more freedom. Then, he'd felt like it all came crashing down when Niffty told him about Charlie.

Angel knew he'd been harsh with Charlie, uncalled for, but how else was he supposed to react? After all, Fat Nuggets' well-being wasn't the only thing about that situation that had made him incredibly uneasy.

When they arrived in his bedroom, he closed the door securely behind him. While Fat Nuggets jumped up onto the bed, Angel rooted around in one his drawers. He took out a cigarette, brought it to his mouth, and lit it. He sat down next Fat Nuggets, watching the grey smoke lazily billow in the air.

Charlie didn't allow drugs in the Hotel, and Angel couldn't even begin to count the amount of times he'd smuggled them in. He'd thought he was constantly getting away with it, too. But Charlie had the odd combination of being a little naïve while still being too detail-oriented for her own good.

So, the one day, she approached him, and handed him a pack of measly cigarettes with a disapproving sigh. That day, they compromised. No drugs in the Hotel, with the cigarettes being the replacement. Preferably smoking outside. He scoffed at this, as if cigarettes were strong enough.

At first, just to mess with her, he smoked indoors every chance he got, hoping to get a rise or reaction from her. All she did was cough and wave at the smoke like it was a normal occurrence. He…eventually gave up on that.

He took another drag. He never found himself to be able to get addicted to cigarettes. It just wasn't potent enough for him.

He glanced at Fat Nuggets.

But it was a small price to pay, he supposed, for a place to stay. Besides, nothing was ever stopping him from leaving the Hotel for a night or two to get his fix. When…

When was the last time he'd taken a hit from any drugs?

He had lied to Vaggie during game night. There was no good stash. No stash at all. He'd been too focused on his freelancing and hanging out at the Hotel to even take the time for a buzz.

He watched the grey smoke contemplatively. He…didn't know what to do with that realization. He-

Angel's musings came to a screeching halt. As to be expected, he watched as the grey faded into a stunning and disturbing ruby red. His knuckles cracked in protest as he swiftly crushed the cigarette in his hand. This was something that Charlie didn't know nor had taken into account. That wasn't her fault. This happened with anything he smoked.

Expertly, he tossed the crinkled cigarette across the room to land in the ash tray. He laid down, awkwardly bringing half of the covers around himself, the half he wasn't laying on top of. Fat Nuggets tucked himself under to curl against Angel's shoulder.

He didn't know if he would ever be completely free of Valentino. He probably never would. There were still remnants of that bastard almost everywhere. For some reason, though, he couldn't reach him here.

He stared upwards, his eyes tracing over the abstract apple depictions on the ceiling. A half-hearted smile played on his lips.

"Dodged a bullet," Angel breathed. "Didn't we, Nuggs? I…I think…" He let his words taper off, not quite ready to say them out loud, too terrified to jinx it. Still, they went to bed that night, with one thought resting in the back of Angel's mind.

_I think we'll be okay here._

\-------  
\-------

Meanwhile, in a different part of the Hotel, Niffty was taking Angel's advice.

She knocked quickly and loudly, on a mission.

Alastor opened his door. Grinning down at Niffty, he opened his mouth to give her his usual professional greeting. That is until she shoved crinkled papers towards his face.

"I have resumes!"

He blinked. "I…can see that. Quite. Whatever are they for?"

"Do I have to pass 'em out?!"

He blinked again. But of course, his smile never left his face. He always admired Niffty for being able to keep anyone on their toes. "I don't know why you'd feel compelled to."

"'Cause Charlie's been disowned, right?"

He looked down at her with scrunched eyebrows. Her words were coming out in a rush, and her arms were crossed stubbornly.

He sighed. "Yes. She has been. But that doesn't explain why you're out to seek alternative employment." He laughed once. "Not that I'd let you. I constantly have to remind Husker of his place. I've never had to do the same with you."

Niffty paused to look away, wringing the papers in her fists contemplatively. She looked back up at him. "So I still live here?"

He nodded once. "Yes."

"But she's been disowned."

"And word travels fast it seems. As does gossip. Whatever you've heard, or whatever you've cooked up in that wild imagination of yours, rest assured that this hotel will remain open, with you as our esteemed custodian."

She stared at him. "Wow, that was almost a compliment! Charlie must really be rubbing off on you." She hummed and tapped her chin. "I guess I never really thought of shipping you two. She is still with Vaggie. But I can kinda see it, I guess."

Alastor shook his head confusedly. "I beg your pardon."

She shrugged. "All I'm saying is, good luck!"

He scowled at her. "Yes, but…What do boats have to do with it?"

"No, no, it's an internet thing. A romance thing." She huffed. "I won't explain it to you. You're practically ancient and probably wouldn't understand any of it anyway. Alright. I'm gonna leave now and shred these things," she said, shaking the papers in her hands. "Or burn them. Haven't decided which would be more fun. Have a good night Alastor!" She waved him goodbye as she took off.

Alastor had grown still at her words. Slowly, painstakingly, he shut himself back inside his bedroom.

There was a wide, bewildered smile frozen to his face. He leaned his back against his door for quite some time, not really moving.

_'A romance thing.'_

Of course!

It all made perfect sense.

No wonder he cared about Charlie. No wonder he wanted to see her and spend as much time with her as possible. No wonder his heart skipped in his chest whenever she laughed or smiled.

He was in love with her!

He let out one, single, baffled laugh.

He had never been in love before, so of course he didn't recognize this feeling.

Ah.

Yes.

Perfect sense.

It explained everything!

He felt the back of his head connect with the door as he stared with wide eyes at absolutely nothing in particular. He really should move away from the door now, as he and it had become well acquainted within the last...

He looked at the clock near his bedside. It read midnight. Going off of that knowledge, he'd apparently been standing there in a state of pure shock for just short of two hours now.

Yes, he should probably move away from the door now. That's what he should do next.

And…

Well…

It should be noted that he had absolutely _no idea_ what to do next.


	12. Compensate

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * I loosely referenced Hocus Pocus. I do not own Hocus Pocus.

Steel and Sanderson were an odd duo. Both had died during completely different centuries. And they were both total opposites, to a point where Steel often considered flinging Sanderson off of any nearest high place. Still, they balanced each other out. Steel enjoyed the thrill, and Sanderson was the one to keep him levelheaded. Besides, there was no one else in Hell who would put up with Steel's crazy and dangerous schemes.

The one thing they did have in common was their looks. Both resembled cat-like creatures, with Sanderson having pitch-black fur, and with Steel having long, hook-like retractable claws.

Those claws, combined with Sanderson's cynicism, somehow resulted in a bizarre partnership that worked quite well.

…Most of the time.

"This is not a good idea," Sanderson shook his head, staring apprehensively at the Hazbin Hotel as they approached. "You see how big this place is? We would wear ourselves out before we actually found anything good."

"Exactly," Steel grinned, his accent taking on its usual arrogant tone. "It's huge and time consuming. We didn't have enough time to really scope this place out last time. Eh. Error on my part, I guess. So, we'll play pretend. We take a look inside, see if it looks worth our while, and if so, check ourselves in." Noticing his trepidation, Steel roughly jabbed his elbow into Sanderson.

"Ugh," Sanderson muttered as he rubbed his smarting shoulder.

"Oh, come on," Steel said. "This is pretty damned full-proof. If we check in, we get all the time in the world to pick through it. Look at it! There's gotta be a good chunk of change waiting for us."

"Or the Hotel is as empty as that-"

"It obviously ain't empty." Steel rolled his eyes. "They got people living in it. Hell, even that porn star lives here. Hey," he suddenly looked at Sanderson with a wide smirk. "Can you imagine how much cash he alone has stashed away?" He rubbed his hands together deviously, with a hint of his claws showing. "Hoo boy, I can't wait to see how much we walk away with!"

Sanderson shook his head, having a bad feeling about this. He wasn't one for stealing, as that was Steel's profession. However, he remembered the times where he, too, had gotten a rush from deceiving hapless individuals. He'd enjoyed fooling people with his fake medicine concoctions when he was alive, and gaining a profit from it. As one can imagine, being hanged and accused of witchcraft – how was he supposed to know his treatments would actually work? – now made swindling in general a turn-off for him. The only reason he'd partnered up with Steel in the first place was because, to this day, he had no idea how to consistently make money in Hell.

Steel was always successful, and they never walked away with empty pockets. At the end of the day, somehow, Sanderson and Steel made their partnership work. But their money was running out, as well as the frail patience of the select few demons they owed.

The sidewalk had disappeared beneath their feet, and they were now walking on the cobblestones, with the Hotel only several dozen feet ahead.

Sanderson shivered as his fur stood on end. Despite its name and how big it was, the Hotel wasn't actually all that intimidating or imposing. It actually seemed…quite welcoming. So why did he feel on edge, like they were being watched? He quickly glanced around, trying to find the source of his unease.

"What the fuck," he screeched, grabbing Steel's arm to get his attention.

"It's really swell your claws ain't sharp like mine," Steel grimaced, calmly prying his hand away. "Otherwise I'd be ripping you a new one right now." His grimace deepened when he saw that Sanderson wasn't looking at him. He followed his gaze, and he was unable to hide the sharp flinch that raced through his body. "O…kay," he exhaled as he stared at the creature. "That's pretty damn disturbing."

A tall, black shadow had snuck up from behind and was now towering over them. It was long like a snake, with pins sticking out of where its eyes should be, and a wide wicked grin plastered on its face.

"Vlad…was right," Sanderson whispered in astonishment.

Steel shook his head slowly. "He said he saw the Radio Demon with the ex-Princess. Who knew that sneering, gossiping son of a bitch was actually telling the truth." A smile slowly widened on his face. "Well, this just sweetens the deal, don't it?"

"What?!"

He turned enthusiastically to face a bewildered Sanderson, momentarily forgetting the sinister creature. "We _gotta_ get into the Hotel now."

"Are you fucking kidding me?!"

"If the Radio Demon is wasting his time here, then there must be something worthwhile here."

"Yeah! And now that you mention it, if we listen closely, we can probably hear the dying screams of all the victims he has ever had. Have some godforsaken sense!"

Steel waved a dismissive hand at him as he rolled his eyes. He turned to face the shadow again and cleared his throat. "If your - whatever you wanna call him - your master lives here, then we want in on it, too."

The shadow hadn't moved an inch, as silent and still as a statue.

Scowling, Steel stepped forward and snapped his fingers in front of its face. "Uh, hello?"

The shadow almost phased right through his hand, as it was now suddenly inches in front of his face. Despite the pins in its eyes, it still managed to unnervingly stare him down. An appendage of some sorts materialized on the side of the shadow's body. It lifted until it formed a disturbingly long arm.

It was pointing towards the Hotel. Specifically towards a fifth floor window that was clear, as opposed to stained glass like all the others.

Steel resisted the urge to swallow nervously. "How…How did you know about that?"

The shadow's only response was to let its arm disappear.

Steel narrowed his eyes stubbornly. He cleared his throat again in an effort to regain confidence. "Well. That was then and this is now. We wanna check into the Hotel."

It didn't move.

Steel sneered at it. "What? You got pins in your ears, too? I said we wanna check in."

The shadow didn't respond to this, to anything, as if it couldn't be bothered to do so.

Steel rolled his eyes and nudged Sanderson, who exasperatedly had his face buried in his hands this whole one-sided conversation. "Come on," he grumbled as he turned them both in the direction of the Hotel. "This is a waste of our time."

Sanderson was all too happy to be walking away, but not towards Steel's current and hell-bent destination. "That thing clearly doesn't want us to be here."

"Last I checked, it don't own the Hotel. That ex-Princess does."

They approached the doors. As Steel reached out to open it, there was a loud clunk, as if the doors had locked themselves.

They stumbled backwards in surprise when another dark mass slithered out of the keyholes. This shadow was shorter and had sharp fangs. Its fingers were jagged and gnarled, as if it used its own hands to frequently lock and unlock the doors.

Sanderson's whole body shook with fright. Everything now felt incredibly stifled because the previous shadow had followed them to the door. The two demons were now trapped between both shadows.

Sanderson snarled at Steel. "This was the dumbest idea you have ever had. We are surrounded!"

"Shut up, you coward," he snapped. "They ain't hurt us yet." He glanced around at the two shadows. "And you coulda if you wanted to. Couldn't you?"

Their silence had broken. Both shadows were now hissing at each other, a sadistic and raspy sound akin to laughter.

"We need to get the hell out of here," Sanderson whimpered.

"You said it yourself, we're surrounded. Nowhere to go but here."

Sanderson clawed his hands down his face. "We are so screwed!"

"Shh," Steel spat harshly. By this point, the shadows had stopped hissing, their attention once again on the two demons.

Steel sighed, and he attempted a half-assed apologetic tone. "Yeah. I tried to steal from the safe. We owe some pretty influential demons a fair amount of cold hard cash, but…I realized how wrong of me that was, and that I really wasn't helping myself any." He paused to look at the shadows. They listened to his monologue patiently. Far too patiently.

"Anyway. My logic is this," he continued. "If that slut of a spider and even your own master live here, well, why can't we?"

On that note, he brazenly walked around the one shadow to open the doors. The door handles faded and disappeared before he could touch them. He heard Sanderson whimper at this, and the shadows were hissing once more.

He spun around. "Oh, grin all you want, you bastards."

Sanderson let his hands drop from his face to stare at the ground. "We are going to die," he muttered lifelessly. "We were dead before, but we are clearly going to die again."

"You guys can't tell us what to do and where to go," Steel kept going, pointing a stern finger at the shadows. "You ain't the boss here. No," Steel shook his head at them. "No, that washed-up ex-Princess is."

Both shadows suddenly surged forward until they surrounded Steel, all but smothering him. Their smiles had drastically changed, becoming sharper and more chilling. Steel couldn't stop his shoulders from hunching defensively. The shadows were done having fun. They were no longer getting a kick out of messing with them. He had crossed some sort of line, it seemed.

Well, what did Steel normally do when he crossed a line?

That's right. He kept on going.

"She's the one who gets the final say. Not you two. And besides," he paused to gesture between himself and Sanderson, while Sanderson looked on in concern and terror. "You think either of us would actually threaten anyone with the Radio Demon in there? Psh!" He crossed his arms. "We ain't that stupid."

The shadows were still, with their disturbing smiles never faltering.

Steel was half-tempted to lean forward, to get in their faces like they had done with them, but for once in his life he realized something. That he was truly pushing his luck. Perhaps Sanderson was right, that they should've called it quits with the first shadow, but they were already in pretty deep now. And Steel didn't believe in doing a job only halfway.

"So," he concluded. "You gonna let us in or what?"

The shadows finally looked away from him to stare at each other. It was as if they were having a silent conversation to contemplate his words.

In a blink, their smiles once again changed, until they curled all the way to their foreheads. Steel cringed, watching as the corners of their mouths almost pierced into their own eyes – or pins in the one shadow's case. They hissed maniacally at each other for a few more seconds, as if they had just been told a funny morbid joke. Then, the one shadow slithered back into the keyholes.

A clunk was heard.

Sanderson's tense shoulders dropped in surprise. "Th-They're letting us in," he exhaled. "By god!"

Steel smirked conceitedly at this turn of events. He swiveled to face the snake-like shadow and opened his mouth to say something. His words died in his throat, being replaced with a startled, embarrassing yelp.

The shadow rushed forward, until Steel had no choice but to rapidly back up. His back slammed against the doors. He didn't know how much fear he was conveying, but it seemed to be an adequate amount, because the shadow stopped for a second, and then that sharp warning of a smile took over its face again.

It dove for Steel. It flew right through his body, until phasing into the Hotel through the cracks in the door.

Steel dropped to the ground, shivering and with the wind knocked out of him from that jarring, unpleasant experience.

Sanderson joined his side. Instead of offering a hand, he said, "They could not talk, but that was one hell of a message."

"Not a message," Steel exhaled jaggedly. "A threat."

Sanderson shook his head slowly, pityingly. "And you still want to go in there."

Steel gulped and nodded hastily. Using one of the door handles, which had mysteriously reappeared, he hauled himself to his feet. He used his other hand to dust himself off and, after making sure his claws were retracted, adjusted the newsboy cap atop his head. After that, he then took hold of the other handle.

A hand landed on his arm to make him pause.

"I think this is fucking foolish," Sanderson huffed. His voice was tired and had no effort, not only because he knew Steel's one-track mind, but also because…

Steel shook his head despondently. "We need this money to save our skins. We don't got another choice." He pressed his thumbs down on the latches, and swung both doors wide open.

Steel opened his mouth with a scowl, readying a sarcastic comment on how trashy the place looks. His mouth slowly closed, though.

When he was here last, the hallways had a thick layer of dust on them. This was the entryway, of course, not the fifth floor, but even he had to admit how clean it all looked. Not half-bad at all. It was also extremely quiet. Not unsettling, though. Just peaceful, as if these old walls had no problem keeping out the chaos of Hell.

Steel cupped his hands over his mouth. "Hello! Anyone here? You got two fucked up souls who wanna be compensated!"

"Redeemed," Sanderson corrected swiftly.

"I mean, redeemed!"

The only response was his own echo. Steel and Sanderson exchanged a glance and a shrug. They decided to take a look around.

On closer inspection, Steel did see a thin layer of dust on certain areas, especially the unused concierge desk. However, there was also some on the walls. He could see faint outlines of squares and rectangles. It looked as though they had been lined with photos at some point. Many, many photos. But there weren't any to be seen.

"Hey," Sanderson hollered to him, pointing at what looked to be a bar. "Why would a redemption place have alcohol?"

"No clue," Steel chuckled, walking over. "But it's one hell of a beautiful bonus." Never one to let an opportunity go to waste, he stuck his hand behind the counter.

Sanderson shook his head incredulously at this and roughly pulled him away.

"Man, fuck off," Steel growled as he slapped his hand away.

"We have to act like we want to be here, like we want to better ourselves," he reminded in a whisper. "Is that not the whole point of this scheme?"

"You're such a wet blanket," he sighed heavily and disappointedly.

That's when they heard some echoing, but their voices weren't the cause. There were other separate voices; a cheerful female's and a gruff male's.

"Thanks for helping me out with the rest of those boxes, Husk."

"Yeah, well, I haven't seen anyone else trying to help you out."

They appeared around a corner. The one demon had cat-like features as well, including a set of wings. The other demon was golden-haired and had a kind smile.

Steel grimaced at her. He had only ever seen her on TV. He didn't know it was possible for anyone in Hell to have that kind of genuine smile off-screen.

"It's not that…anyone didn't wanna help me," she continued saying. "I just needed to-" She paused when she realized they had an audience.

She stared at the two random demons, as if unsure that she was even seeing them.

Steel smirked and winked at Sanderson before turning his attention to the ex-Princess. He stepped forward, stuck out his hand – sheepishly retracting his claws – and opened his mouth to give a charming greeting.

She didn't give him the chance.

"Oh, my gosh!" She exclaimed loudly as she began frantically and self-consciously straightening herself. "We have visitors! There are visitors in the Hotel! Husk, we have-"

"Visitors," Husk grunted as he went over to his bar. "Looks like it. Uh, welcome to the Hotel, and all that shit."

"Yes, hi!" She smiled so widely that Steel feared it would fly off her face. She stuck out her hand to vehemently shake his. "Welcome! Welcome to the Hotel! A-are you here to check in," she asked enthusiastically, hopefully.

Steel felt himself take a step back. Yeah, she was way too genuine. He supposed she had to be in order to have the balls to advertise and run a place like this. He smirked at her. This would be an easy job. One of his specialties was messing with naïve fools, after all.

"That's right," he said with a respectful head dip. "Me and him would-"

"What's going on here," another voice asked. It was another woman, with white hair and a long, disheveled pink bow wrapped up in it. She was rubbing at her eyes, as if her sleep was disturbed.

"Vaggie," the ex-Princess exclaimed. "I'd like you to meet…Uh?"

"I'm Steel." He then slung his arm around his partner who scowled in response. "And this lump here is Sanderson."

"Right," she nodded politely. "I'm Charlie. And this is Vaggie."

Vaggie narrowed her eyes at them. "And…they wanna join the Hotel?"

Charlie nodded. "Yep!" She turned her attention back to the two new demons. "So, let me tell you a little bit about this place…"

Vaggie leaned tensely against the wall, automatically distrusting. Quite a few months had passed since Charlie's performance on the news, and they hadn't had any new sinners in the Hotel. Well, not counting Alastor, Husk, and Niffty, that is. Why would two sinners suddenly show up out of the blue?

She sighed to herself, shoulders sagging. She rubbed her fingers against her eyes. Charlie was always telling her to relax and take it easy. Maybe this was why she was so tired lately. She'd felt exhausted for many weeks now, and it had to have been triggered by _something_. She didn't know what, though. Maybe this was her own body's way of saying enough was enough.

Still, she observed from a distance just in case, letting Charlie talk about the Hotel to the demon named Steel, who listened intently. Sanderson had pried Steel's arm away at some point, and was now walking around the entryway.

Vaggie scowled at him, thinking how rude it was to be ignoring the owner of the Hotel. He waltzed around calmly, but it was as if he were looking for something. He ran his fingers along the walls at some point. He then tapped the wall once, twice, and then moved on.

Vaggie tilted her head, confused, and her suspicions were trying to bubble to the surface again. She stamped it down as best she could with a shake of her head.

That is, until Sanderson boldly picked up an ornate vase. He ran his fingers along the rim, which was painted a bright bronze along the edge. He inspected his fingers, rubbing them together with a scowl of concentration.

He froze when he noticed Vaggie was watching. He immediately, but carefully, set the vase back on its pedestal, and walked back to Steel's side, now completely ignoring Vaggie.

Her jaw clenched. 

Son of a bitch.

She stepped forward and placed her hand on Charlie's shoulder. "We gotta talk," Vaggie said urgently.

Charlie's smile fell at her tone. "Can…Can it wait, please? I'm with new clients, after all."

"Who the fuck was messing with my bar," Husk suddenly demanded loudly, hunched over and digging through his shelves.

Vaggie's fists clenched. 

Son of a bitch!

"Could've been Niffty," Charlie guessed. "You did owe her another set of mini booze bottles."

Husk's only response was an irritable grumble as he set to work reorganizing.

"Anyway," Charlie said as she turned her attention back to the newcomers. "Let me show you to your rooms."

They followed her to the concierge desk, which looked quite abysmal compared to the rest of the foyer. A layer of dust, lights above it flickering rather weakly, and no one manning it.

"Sorry, kid," Husk paused his organizing to grimace apologetically at Charlie. "Haven't, uh, really kept up on the upkeep there."

"Don't worry about it," Charlie said. "Up until now…It's kind of understandable."

He grunted and nodded. "I'll get to it."

"Thanks." Charlie went to the key holder wrack. She frowned. All of the keys were rusted and rotted, and the room numbers above them were faded and illegible.

"Something the matter… _Princess_?"

She quickly spun around to face Steel and Sanderson. "No. Um. Normally I'd be giving you a key right now, but it looks like we'll have to make new ones. But I have an alternative in the meantime."

Before she could lead them to their rooms, Vaggie cut off her path and put both her hands firmly on her shoulders. "Charlie... We. Need. To. Talk."

Charlie frowned at the inflection in her tone and her tense body language. She briefly glanced back at Sanderson and Steel, then put her attention back on Vaggie. "I have to make sure these two are settled first. That's my job." She paused thoughtfully. "Meet me in the living room in fifteen-ish minutes?"

Vaggie shook her head with a growl, not at all satisfied with that. But she stepped back, giving them room, knowing that she had no choice in the matter.

Charlie smiled and mouthed a 'thank you' to her. Vaggie didn't respond. Instead, she turned away to immediately head for the living room.

\-------

"She is...quite the spitfire, is she not," Sanderson remarked carefully as Charlie led them through the halls.

"Yeah, that's Vaggie for you," she shrugged casually. "She's really dedicated to this place and-"

"Is pretty protective it seems," Steel interrupted.

Charlie winced. "I hope you're not-"

"Offended," he interrupted again. He scoffed lightly. "Hell, no. Definitely not! At least we can say you people ain't boring."

Charlie chuckled slightly at that, happy with how upbeat Steel's personality seemed.

"So," she began. "There are plenty of rooms to choose from. Do you have any preferences? Do you two wanna share a room?"

"Yeah," Steel nodded once. "Definitely share one. And, uh, if it could be a room kinda outa the way of everyone else, that would be just dandy."

"Sure," she nodded. "I think I have what you're looking for down this hall."

They reached a door near a secluded dead end. She opened it and stepped back.

"How does this look?"

They peered inside, and Steel gave an approving nod. "This'll do. Thanks much, Princess."

Charlie winced slightly, but seemed to recover pretty quickly. "Just Charlie. You don't have to call me Princess. And, actually, while we're being honest, I'm not a princess anymore." She chuckled modestly. "I'm just a hotel owner now."

"Oh, yeah," Steel nodded, dropping just a little bit of the pretense, glad that he didn't have to pander with this particular subject. "We know. Word travels slowly when it comes to royals, or lack thereof. But it travels anyway."

"Right," she muttered, not sure how to really respond to that. She nodded to their room. "So. Make yourselves at home! And you're free to do as you wish. It goes without saying not to invade anyone's personal room, but there are plenty of public areas in the Hotel to hang out in. If you ever need anything, you can ask anyone who already lives here, or come find me, Vaggie, or Alastor personally. We three are the owners."

Steel tilted his head with a knowing grin. "Alastor, as in the Radio Demon."

"Uh," Charlie stammered a little, now realizing how odd it would seem to some. "Yes. Uh, that probably…makes you a little, um, uncomfortable. But rest assured! He's a valuable addition to the Hotel, and he takes his job seriously. You really don't have any reason to be afraid of him."

Steel snickered under his breath. "You ain't afraid of him."

"Not, uh…I guess not…?"

"Huh," he muttered vaguely. Then, he clapped his hands together. "Well, we're gonna turn in for the evening. Don't wait up."

"Sure," Charlie said with a smile. "No problem. Oh, wait!" They stepped back to allow Charlie to cut in front of them. "Given that we have to make new keys, you'll have to improvise."

She sidestepped a little to give them a demonstration. She gently tapped her finger against the door handle. Wisps of black began swirling within and around the keyhole. A clunk was heard and the blackness faded.

She directed a kind 'thank you' towards the keyhole. Then, she turned her attention back to Steel and Sanderson. "That's how you lock and unlock-"

"You can control the shadows."

Charlie paused. Steel's tone was strained and he was wearing an odd expression. Not confused, not positive, just odd, as if he didn't know what to make of things.

"Yeah," she nodded with a raised brow. "Kinda."

"Congratulations, Steel," Sanderson muttered in a deadpanned voice, staring at the floor. "You were right. We are never going to be bored here."

Steel shook his head rapidly, as if bewildered by something. "Alright," he huffed tiredly. "Let's, uh, let's call it a day. Anything else you wanna spout?"

Steel had to admit it, he nearly respected Charlie for not being fazed by his bluntness. Nearly.

"Hmm," she tapped her chin. Then, she shrugged, and smiled warmly. "The only thing I guess is to just…relax. Yes, the goal here is to redeem sinners and get them into Heaven, but that obviously can't happen overnight. And we also have some ideas to work towards redemption, but it wouldn't be fair of any of us to force that upon you."

Steel listened indifferently to her words, using his thumb to distractedly pick the dirt out from around his claws.

Sanderson, however, leaned his back against the wall and listened intently. There was no deception in her words. Nothing sounded like a con or even a simple act of pity. She sounded completely genuine in her intention.

"We wanna see if you'll be up for trying these ideas. To better yourself. But it has to be your choice. So, just take your time with everything. And if you have any questions or wanna give something a shot, then please, please let us know."

"Eh," Steel shrugged noncommittally. "Easy enough. We're gonna get some shuteye now. See you later."

"Sure," she nodded. "Have a good night."

As Steel entered the room, and as Charlie walked away, Sanderson glanced between them. With a sigh, he followed Steel. He closed the door behind them once they were both inside.

He turned around to tap at the lock. Nothing happened. Scowling, he tapped it again, more insistently. Instead of locking, the door mischievously cracked open on its own. With a frustrated huff, he grabbed the handle and slammed it closed.

"Looks like we cannot lock it. Damned thing refuses to listen." Then, Sanderson's frown formed into a harsh cringe. "She can control the shadows, Steel."

"Yeah," he grunted, plopping down on one of the twin beds. "We established that."

"Did not take that into account, did you?"

"Look," Steel snapped. "We still got it good. I don't gotta ruin my claws by scaling the fucking building again." He flopped backwards onto the fluffy comforter. "We're on the inside, as welcomed guests. It's a fancy-schmancy hotel. We can live it up!"

Sanderson mumbled something vague under his breath. He went over to the other bed, laid down, tucked the covers around himself, and faced away from his partner.

He heard Steel laughing under his breath. "A hotel full of chumps. And the owner - _Shit_. She looks like the type to dance around a forest singing to woodland creatures." He laughed a little louder. "Fucking has-been Princess. Yeah, Sanderson…We gonna have so much fun here."

Sanderson was about to retort, but something caught his eye. The room was dark, and it was hard to see, but it looked as though some of the darkness had moved. Sanderson blinked rapidly, forcing his not-too-terrible night vision to adjust. When he opened his eyes, everything appeared normal. His fur was standing on end again, though.

"Yeah," Sanderson muttered doubtfully. "Fun."


	13. Everything and Then Some

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * Warning: This chapter is extremely emotional.

Angel Dust had once called the rec room an over-glorified living room. After another game night, and two back-to-back movie nights – once Vaggie fixed the projector, that is – that's what it became; the Hotel's living room.

"Can you believe this," Charlie exclaimed joyfully, energetically pacing the room. "We actually have residents now! Residents who aren't employees! We can really start to get things going now!"

Vaggie was slumped in a chair. She had an apologetic grimace set on her face that was directed towards an oblivious Charlie. "Uh, are you sure about that? We should wait to see if we should even trust these guys."

"Yes, we should," Charlie nodded firmly. "But we should also give them the benefit of the doubt when we can."

Her grimace deepened. "Charlie-"

"I agree that we need to keep an eye out for anything suspicious. But if we hover or interrogate, well, what does that say about us?"

Vaggie leaned back in her chair with a scoff. "It tells them we're not dumbasses."

"So, what do we do?" Charlie frowned, not pausing her pacing. "We say, 'You're free to do as you like, just like everyone else who lives here. But just so you know, we'll be watching your every move'?"

She shrugged. "They might respect that."

"Or they'll think that _we_ don't respect _them_ , and that this place isn't worth their time and energy."

Thoroughly exhausted, thoroughly drained, not having an ounce of fight left in her, Vaggie pitched forward and buried her face in her hands with a loud groan.

In the entryway of the Hotel, that Sanderson demon had been looking around for something, practically itching to get his claws on something valuable. And Charlie didn't see it. Of course she didn't see it. Charlie wasn't defensive, she wasn't distrustful. She always tried to see the good in everyone and everything. For once in her life, why couldn't she just be cynical? Hell, Vaggie would even take 'upset' as a valid emotion at this point. But, no. Charlie was too much of a positive person for that. Always had been, always will be.

"Vaggie," Charlie was murmuring. Vaggie flinched when she felt familiar hands on her shoulders. She flinched even sharper when she felt thumbs slowly stroking. "What's wrong?"

Vaggie stood up so fast that the chair slammed and splintered against the floor. She had flung Charlie's hands off her shoulders, almost brutally shoving her backwards altogether, especially when she knocked into her to begin pacing rapidly and haphazardly about the room. Her entire body was tense. She couldn't calm down.

"Vaggie…"

"I-I just," she was stammering loudly, not daring to look at Charlie, fearing it would make things worse. "They were messing with the walls. They messed with a vase. They messed with Husk's stuff."

Charlie blinked in confusion, not understanding her. "What-"

She spun around to face Charlie.

In a couple quick strides, Vaggie was in front of Charlie, almost in her face. Vaggie did in fact have some fight left, so it would seem. And she hated that about herself. "Look me in the eye, my one last good eye," she demanded. Her hands twitched out, as if to grip Charlie, to make her see sense, but she stopped herself. "Please! Please tell me you saw what those assholes were doing, what they were thinking of doing."

Charlie's frown was deep. She was shaking her head slowly, extremely worried. "Vaggie. I have no idea what you're talking about. I-"

Silently, Vaggie stepped back. Her body was slack and yet it visibly trembled, and she was staring at Charlie with an expression of sheer astonishment. How? How did Charlie not see it?! "I'm…" She wanted to look away from Charlie, wanted to pace some more, wanted to go back to bed to sleep off the exhaustion that was for some reason coming back full force.

She needed to tell Charlie what those two demons were clearly up to, if she could only get the words out without sounding harsh.

She felt herself failing, because something else was bubbling to the surface. She wasn't sure what, but all she knew was that it was something that she had to keep at bay. For Charlie's sake. "That's-" Vaggie began muttering weakly as she felt herself losing against her own inner battle with every passing second. "I'm…No…"

There was a long pause. And then…

"That's it!"

Charlie jumped at this sudden change in tone.

"I-I'm done! I'm not – I can't – I'm not just gonna stand by anymore. Charlie, this is such a stupid and reckless idea! How the fuck do you not see that?"

Genuinely confused and extremely disconcerted, Charlie asked, "What is?"

Vaggie just snarled loudly, threw her hands up in the air, and resumed her pacing. She clawed her hands over her face, leaving thin, angry lines in their wake. Her hands stopped at her mouth, as if to physically stop herself, to keep quiet about everything that was screaming inside her head.

"Vaggie, talk to me. You know you can talk to me."

"Everything!" Vaggie began shouting, no longer in control of herself, and no longer caring about the words that spilled effortlessly from her mouth. "Letting the Radio Demon into the Hotel! Letting Angel Dust stay after the turf war! Singing on live television! Fucking up any remaining reputation you had as a Princess of Hell and leaving yourself vulnerable! Jesus fucking Christ, Charlie! Out of all the schemes, ideas, and pipe dreams you've had over the years, this entire fucking hotel was the most unintelligent thing you have ever come up!"

The living room fell horribly silent.

Vaggie had stopped her pacing, gasping in the aftermath of her tirade, and staring directly at Charlie. Vaggie wasn't quite yet registering the weight of her own words, but she knew she'd said them and said them loudly. She expected Charlie to be thoroughly disturbed and beyond upset. She had every right to be.

Nothing could've prepared Vaggie for her reaction.

Charlie stood there, shoulders tense and her eyebrows ever-so-slightly scrunched together. Other than that, she displayed no emotion. If Vaggie had just met her, she would think that she was fairly neutral, and that nothing was wrong.

Vaggie's eyes slammed shut, and a few tears escaped her as an invisible force seemed to punch her in the gut.

It was the expression that Charlie used out in public when faced with sneering and mocking demons. No emotion, no reaction…Can't let them see the damage.

And Vaggie was the demon to have caused it this time.

Shamefully, not even feeling worthy of feeling upset, Vaggie shoved the heels of her hands against her face in a feeble attempt to stop more tears.

"Why," Charlie whispered emotionlessly, causing a single apologetic sob to tear from Vaggie's throat. "Why didn't you ever just tell me how you felt about things?"

Vaggie dropped her hands, but still kept her gaze away from Charlie. "I've tried…S-sort of. I don't know. I thought you would've picked up on things. You're not as naïve as everyone thinks you are. Even if…" She wrapped her arms around herself. "Even if I sometimes think you are."

Vaggie then shook her head and scowled. "And besides, how could I have? This place is your dream. It's all you've been focused on. Anyone can see just how much this place means to you, how much you care about it. Even-" She cut herself off with a flinch. She shook her head again to get back on track.

She inhaled and exhaled sharply, her voice hoarse and painful. She looked at Charlie. "I didn't want to ruin it for the world."

Charlie frowned, breaking the lack of expression. "So you've been keeping it bottled."

"I don't know," she mumbled. "I just…"

Charlie sighed. "I…I know you probably think I don't know how that feels, but…" She trailed off, her eyebrows coming together again. "Wait. Every time…you've been defensive, every time I've tried to come up with ideas for the Hotel, every time I've tried to do something to make things better…You've been trying to deter me." She paused, her lips now beginning to tremble. "Every time."

Vaggie shook her head helplessly. "I've been trying to protect you!"

"But you of all people should know I don't need protecting."

"No," Vaggie laughed humorlessly. "You don't need protecting, but you need to open your fucking eyes." She pointed vaguely at the living room doors. "Did you see the way those two demons were looking around? They way they were smirking? They're clearly casing the place!"

"What," Charlie asked incredulously. "Wha – Why do you even think that?"

Vaggie shook her head again, this time stubbornly, not even remotely wanting to dive into that.

Charlie tilted her head to catch her gaze. "Vaggie. You can't know that."

Vaggie scoffed. "Yeah. Believe me. I fucking do."

"But we have no proof that they-"

"Because it's what I did when I was alive!"

Years worth of unspoken words clung to the tense atmosphere around them, refusing to let go or go away, hanging over their heads. Just as Vaggie had never asked Charlie about her childhood, Charlie had never asked Vaggie about how she'd died, or what she was like when she was alive.

Vaggie scowled at the floor. "It's how I had to survive." She swiped at the tears on her face, and scoffed. "And this place is owned by a royal family. Those two assholes just hit the jackpot."

Charlie winced. "Uh, Vaggie. Listen-"

"I can't imagine how much extra cash and jewels and shit your parents have stashed away here."

Hesitantly, Charlie stepped forward, walking towards her. "Vaggie. Listen when I say that they're not gonna steal anything."

Charlie stopped in her tracks when Vaggie threw her hands up in the air again. "Oh my fucking god! Are you kidding me, Charlie?! Open your fucking eyes! They are _demons_! Every single person in Hell is a _demon_! Why the fuck do you think this hotel has a snowball's chance of working?!"

Vaggie kept on going, not noticing that Charlie had slammed her eyes shut, or that her lips were beginning to quiver again, or that she was growing tenser by the minute.

"Everyone here is a lying, cheating, self-centered bastard, and all they wanna do is see you get screwed over! If you would open your fucking eyes, if you would stopping being naïve for five fucking seconds-"

"I've been screwed over so many times throughout my life!" Charlie yelled back, tears falling freely down her face. "Years upon years of mocking and harassment! I'm so used to it by now! My own parents even went on live fucking television acting like I didn't even exist! Those demons aren't gonna steal anything because there's nothing for them to fucking steal!"

It couldn't even be described as a silence. Everything, including Hell itself it seemed, had froze. Everything was quiet for many seconds, with neither of them knowing where and how to start.

Vaggie's mouth was moving, desperately trying to find words. "Y-your parents," she murmured. "Why didn't you…tell me?"

Charlie's entire body shook uncontrollably, and her tears continued, dripping on to her shirt and pants and burning tiny holes in the fabrics. "Does it even fucking matter," she managed to ask in a whisper.

"Bullshit. They're your parents."

"Not anymore. Look, I don't wanna-"

"That's why…" Her eyes widened. "That's why you've been so distant on and off. And the foyer! Is that why you took down all of your photos? And…And you've been going around...acting like everything is okay." She paused, but her mouth still moved in a weak effort to find words that were never going to make this situation, this entire mess, any better. "And I didn't catch on to any of it. Whatsoever. I'm…I-I'm so sorry."

"No," Charlie said firmly. "It's not your fault. You've been going through something, too-"

"I don't care about that right now. Not even a little. Just why? Why did you keep this hidden? Why didn't you tell anybody?"

Charlie rubbed her arm self-consciously, her teeth grinding together.

Vaggie's swallowed. "Who else knows?"

"Well," Charlie started hesitantly. "As you can imagine, some sinners had seen the broadcast. And, uh….Look, never mind. It's not -"

"No," Vaggie cut her off. She purposefully walked towards Charlie, involuntarily lifting her hands, ready to place them comfortingly on Charlie's upper arms. But she stopped herself. Something about this argument, something about the tension in this room, it all told her that she shouldn't.

Not any longer.

"No," Vaggie repeated, dropping her hands. "I need to hear what you need to say. I _want_ to hear it." With no smile on her face, she let out a single broken chuckle. "Clearly I've been lacking in the empathy department. And that's totally on me, sure as shit. And I need to make up for it. Please. Talk to me. Please vent. I can't imagine how much you need it."

Charlie briefly closed her eyes. "It's not venting. I…I've already done a lot of that already." She studied Vaggie's face, not knowing how she'll react. "Everyone in the Hotel knows."

She tilted her head. "So, what? Everybody watched the same news cast except me?"

"No," she continued carefully. "They…all gradually heard it from me and Alastor. It, well…It's not like I intended for anyone to find out." Her words began coming out in a rush. "I didn't wanna talk about it with anyone. But Alastor heard it on his radio waves, Husk overheard me and Alastor talking, Niffty I think heard it from Husk, Angel heard it from Niffty-"

"In other words, I was the last to know," Vaggie all but demanded. "Your own girlfriend. Why?! Why didn't you trust me enough to-" She cut herself off, her eyebrows slowly together. "Alastor was the first to know," her voice was deadpanned.

Charlie flinched, knowing where Vaggie's defensive thoughts were headed. "Yes, he-"

"What the fuck?! Are you aware of how fucked up all this is?! I'm your girlfriend! I should've been the first to know! But instead it was the fucking Radio Demon! And then the others! They still knew before I did?! Jesus fucking Christ! Do you not trust me anymore?!"

"That's not fair," Charlie exclaimed instantly and desperately.

"Oh, it's not," she shot back. "Do you even think of me anymore? You know what, I can answer that! Your head has been buried so far in your work you haven't had time for me, for anyone, for even yourself! Ugh!" She resumed her pacing, trudging frantically across the floor. "Everything about this is just so…so…"

Charlie was still rubbing at her arms, practically digging her nails into her own skin. Her tears continued to fall and scorch her clothes. "I know," she muttered lifelessly, staring regretfully at the floor.

At some point, Vaggie stopped pacing, and she mechanically walked away. Once she found another chair to sit down in, she curled her knees to her chest, and inhaled as much as her lungs allowed her. Then, she buried her face in her arms, and sobbed into them.

Upon hearing Vaggie's turmoil, hearing her complete hopelessness, uncertainty, and frustration, Charlie finally broke down as well. She slumped to the floor and cried into her hands.

The culmination of frustration, distress, and pure sorrowful realizations echoed off the walls of the living room. For well until after midnight, Charlie and Vaggie didn't move. They stayed in each other's presence, with both of them on completely opposite sides of the room. They listened to the other's pain, unable to do anything to help the other.

Eventually, their sobs faded, until their tears were silently falling. Neither wanted to look at the other, knowing it could cause another bout of sadness to well up. Both Charlie and Vaggie wanted to leave the room at this point, knowing there was nothing more to do. But neither of them moved, not wanting to leave the other alone. They owed each other that much.

"We're clearly not doing something right here."

Charlie lifted her head up at Vaggie's voice. Instead of looking at her though, not bearing to do so, she looked at the wall. She nodded quietly. She placed her chin on her knees. "I…I don't wanna give up on you."

She heard Vaggie snort. "You don't give up on anyone."

"And you've never given up on me."

There was an excruciatingly long pause on Vaggie's end before she spoke again. "Not usually."

Charlie screwed her eyes shut as another sob slammed through her. She huffed weakly, as it passed as quickly as it came.

"I," Vaggie continued. "I don't know what happens now."

Sniffling, Charlie uncurled herself slowly. She stiffly got to her feet, and inhaled any remaining strength she had. Finally, she looked at Vaggie, and proceeded to walk over to her.

Vaggie ignored her as Charlie found a seat across from her. Charlie studied her face. Vaggie was looking over Charlie's shoulder, out one of the large rectangular windows.

A lump formed in Charlie's stomach. "You're thinking about leaving."

Vaggie simply shrugged. "What else is there to do?"

Charlie knew that the words about to come out of her mouth sounded far too pathetic, but she said them anyway. "You can stay here."

She scoffed, but with no real heat behind it. "You have to know how painful that's gonna be for me. For both of us."

"I know it's not fair of me to ask," Charlie agreed. The lump in her stomach felt even heavier. Painful. "Y-you…You may not be my girlfriend…anymore, but… this is your home. You're still an employee-"

"I never wanted to be an employee. I only wanted to be there for you." She scowled bitterly. "My mistake for not voicing that sooner, I guess."

"Okay," Charlie breathed. She glanced at the window again. "But…It might not be safe for you."

She grimaced harshly. "I can take care of myself."

Charlie shook her head. "I've never had a good reputation. Even less so now that I've been disowned. Almost everyone knows we're together…Were, I mean. And you're gonna have demons who…may wanna mess with you. Because of me. And I couldn't live with myself if I…kicked you out of the Hotel and something happened to you."

Vaggie chuckled humorlessly. "I'd be kicking myself out, remember? And…I know of a couple demons who'd probably take me in for a while."

"And if they don't? Vaggie," she sighed. "You have a home here. That'll never change. I have no right to take that away from you." She chuckled awkwardly. "Plus, you never know. Maybe my crazy…unintelligent plans will actually work this time. I would love to see you get redeemed and move onto better things."

Vaggie finally looked away from the window to stare Charlie in the eyes. "That'll never happen. Not with me. Not with anyone. And – Shit," she snapped, slapping a hand regretfully over her face. "I'm sorry, that was-"

"All that I wanted," Charlie gently interrupted. "was for you to always be honest with me. I've always trusted you and everything you've had to say. You are so opinionated with everyone…But you've always held back with me for some reason. Tonight was the first time I've ever heard you be so honest and raw with me. That's all I've ever wanted was for you to care about me enough to be honest with me."

Vaggie frowned. "And all I ever wanted was for you to think things through, to not put yourself in any danger…And to spend more time with me."

"I _have_ been thinking things through," Charlie said. "You said it yourself, I'm not as naïve as everyone thinks I am. And I've been trying to spend as much time as possible with you. Obviously, not lately because of how tired you've been and everything, and I know you've been wanting space. But anyway, I know I've been busy. So every time I had an idea in mind, I always wanted to come to you. Not only because I value your opinion, but also because I always wanna spend time with you-"

"And I see that," Vaggie said. "Trust me. I've always seen that." She looked away, a few more stray tears falling. "But I fell in love with you. Not the Hotel."

Charlie flinched, but accepted her words loud and clear.

Vaggie frowned bitterly. "Would you look at that. We both got our wish tonight. I got to spend time with you. And you got my honesty."

Charlie shook her head with a frown. "I still haven't gotten my current wish. Please tell me you'll at least consider staying, before you go rushing blindly out of here."

Vaggie's only response was to stand up, and walk away. Before leaving the room, she emotionlessly muttered, "No promises." And the door closed on her way out.

\-------

Vaggie passed out on her bed before she could even wrap the covers around herself. For the first time in many weeks, she slept like the dead.

And she hated every single restful minute of it.


	14. Solutions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> * Note: I am not an expert on alcohol by any means. Some websites say that rum is stronger than whiskey, and other websites say the opposite. That's just one example, though. Whenever I talk about alcohol in this fic, I will always do my research, but please take it with a grain of salt.

He should be doing a lot of things.

He should be giving Husk and Niffty their usual orders.

He should be greeting the new clients.

He should be going to find Charlie for their usual meeting.

Alastor sighed with uncertainty.

He'd been rather distant these past few days. If it _had_ been a few days, that is. Whenever he didn't see Charlie on an everyday basis he tended to lose track of time. He wasn't used to being that disoriented. At least he knew the cause now. That was why he'd holed himself in his room for the past – oh, who really knows how long? He didn't know how to deal with the recent onslaught of realizations.

He sat down on a bar stool. "Hello, dear Husker," he greeted with his usual smile.

Husk cringed. Alastor was a night owl and he didn't sleep all that often, but Husk could hear it, a heavy tiredness that was just barely prominent in his voice. That was one of Alastor's tells.

"Tell me," Alastor said. "What are you strongest spirits?"

Husk stalled, unsure whether he should directly answer this question. "Uh, you tell me. You provide it."

"Not all of it," he pointed out. "I'm well aware you have your own personal stash."

With a reluctant grumble, Husk knelt towards a corner of the bar, popped out a wooden panel, and brought out two tall bottles. "Rum or vodka?"

Alastor grimaced. "I was hoping you would suggest whiskey or wine."

"Believe me when I say neither of those are strong enough, not by a mile," Husk grunted. Alastor hesitated. "You gonna pick, or can I put these away? This is some of my most expensive shit, and apparently we got thieves under this roof."

"Yes, so I've been told," Alastor hummed, and pointed to the rum.

Husk poured him a glass, and passed it to him. "You gonna do anything about it? Charlie sure ain't."

"It's all taken care of," he shrugged. He paused to take a sip. "Speaking of which, I am in love with her."

Husk stared at him for many seconds, trying to process what he'd just said.

He expected, when Alastor did finally make this realization, that he'd be in denial about it, or laugh it off and mock the very notion of it. However, there was no mockery in his voice or smile, and it was said so matter-of-factly. But Husk also knew that Alastor had one hell of a poker face. And given how tired he looked, he could imagine there was a lot more going on.

"Well, uh," Husk stammered slightly, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly. "Took you long enough…?"

Alastor looked up from his rum with a raised a brow. "You knew?"

On that note, Husk quickly snatched a random bottle of alcohol from a random shelf, flicked the cap off, and proceeded to down half of it. When he took the bottle away from his mouth, he mumbled, "L-let's just not even go there." And then he chugged more of it, convinced that he would never have enough alcohol for this bizarre situation. This was confirmed when he could see the bottom of the bottle after only a few mere seconds of drinking. Agitated, Husk threw the bottle in the trash.

Alastor simply nodded dismissively, too tired to pry as he took another sip of his own. "And now here I am! I believe I'm going to attempt to become intoxicated."

Husk slammed his elbows onto his counter and buried his face in his claws. He shook his head, trying to convince himself that he didn't need to say anything else, that he didn't need to _ask_ anything else.

God damn it.

He grumbled into his palms. "You must be one special son of a bitch, because I'm a bartender and I've never had to ask this question in my entire life…But why?"

"Because I have no idea what to do next."

The simplicity in this sentence made Husk finally look at him again. Alastor sat there, staring at nothing in particular, lazily drawing his finger around the rim of his empty glass.

Husk gave a long-suffering sigh. "Alright," he muttered as he poured him more rum. "Go on. Out with it."

Alastor took another sip. "When I was alive, I slaughtered people one by one, at my leisure. It was how I entertained myself. When I should've been courting a lovely lady of my choosing, I was too busy burying bodies. Romance didn't seem all that thrilling to me, not compared to my usual hobbies." A mischievous smile curled on his face. "Having said that, watching hapless, lovesick fools trip over themselves for a chance at love only to be rejected moments later was always fun to laugh at."

"And now you're the hapless, lovesick fool," Husk snorted. "Ain't karma a bitch?"

"No," Alastor said, half of his smile faltering a little, almost but not quite a frown. Husk stared at him, waiting for him to elaborate on that. Instead, he seemed to move on to something else. "Husker," he sighed pensively. "I have been bored for so long now. For the first time in decades, my heart is pounding again. All because of Charlie."

He went to take another sip, but stopped, and set the glass aside. "I had no idea what this sort of thing felt like, to want to give your heart to another. It's confusing, yet it makes my head spin in the most invigorating way."

His smile formed into something soft, almost the same smile Husk had seen during the first game night. "Yes," Alastor seemed to murmur to himself. "It's quite…" He trailed off.

Husk blinked. Then, he shook his head rapidly. Yeah, that was just wistfulness he was hearing in Alastor's tone, not gentleness. Had to be. Who the hell would ever describe the Radio Demon as _gentle_?

Then, Alastor scowled. "But what am I to do? Aside from the fact that I'm not well-versed with such things," Alastor paused to rub his fingers against his tired eyes. "I'm also not capable of conveying my affections. She's already…otherwise involved," he ended in a mutter, and it sounded rather bitter.

"Holy shit," Husk snickered. "You're jealous. Never thought I'd see envy on your arrogant face."

Alastor rolled his eyes. He didn't come here for a bartender's sympathy, after all. He came here to drink. He'd lost track of the amount of alcohol he'd consumed today. With a muddled sigh, he stood up.

"You feel anything," Husk asked, taking Alastor's glass to clean it. "You feel drunk yet?"

"Not even the least bit tipsy." He made a show of dusting off his hands. "I was hoping to at least figure things out before my weekly meeting with Charlie, but I suppose to no avail."

Husk raised a brow. "You drank an entire bottle of rum. You woulda showed up to a meeting with her drunk outa your skull?"

"Goodness, no," he exclaimed incredulously, almost offended. "If I did get drunk, which I apparently may not even be capable of doing so, then I would've snapped my fingers to make the delirium go away. It's impolite to share your presence with a lady in such a state."

"And you say you're not well-versed," Husk scoffed. Then, he frowned stiffly. "So, your meetings normally last up to an hour. You, uh, gonna be okay?"

He shook his head. "Not in the slightest, I'll bet."

"What are you gonna do?"

"Oh, that solution is simple," he said with a casual shrug. "I must do nothing."

Husk blinked. "What…Who are you and what have you done with Alastor?" He scoffed again. "So, that's it then? You ain't gonna, I don't know, talk to her even? Try to woo her or something? Get her to…break up with Vaggie like the asshole you are? You ain't gonna try _anything_?"

"And hurt her in the process," Alastor asked instantly.

Husk almost dropped the glass. "That's…what you're thinking about."

"That's what it all comes down to, the way I see it."

Husk flexed his jaw. The way Alastor spoke his words, so simple and obvious, as if this whole situation was coming naturally to him. Husk looked away from him to put the glass back on the shelf and throw the empty rum bottle away. Alastor had nothing to worry about, in his opinion.

Alastor began walking away. "I'll have to maintain professionalism. That's all I can do for her. It's what she deserves. Charlie is not mine… And I am not hers."

Husk winced.

Alastor suddenly laughed loudly. It was empty, completely devoid of his usual enthusiasm. "I suppose the original plan is the same, then! We finally have demons other than ourselves in the Hotel. Not that these two will last long here, mind, but more are sure to come eventually. Hopefully, in due time, I will have the pleasure of watching all of Charlie's sinners' inevitable crushing failures." He gave one last laugh, and walked out of sight.

Husk stared after him, too many thoughts coming to mind. This wasn't the first time in their messed up acquaintanceship that Alastor had vented to him. He never sought advice or validation – no, he was far too proud for such things – but he still went to Husk in confidence on and off throughout the years.

Yet, there were so many things he could've said to Alastor just now. One particular thought kept coming to mind. Husk knew he sometimes didn't have a filter in front of his mouth, but he had a motivation for keeping it shut this time.

After providing Charlie with boxes for her family photos, and then occasionally helping carry them to her room, he realized something. He thoroughly respected Charlie. And after a couple game nights and movie nights, he realized he respected everyone else as well. Maybe not all equally, but still.

Because of this, he couldn't say what would probably cheer Alastor up. Just like it was none of his business, it was also none of Alastor's.

_I can't believe he doesn't know that Charlie and Vaggie broke up. That damned living room echoes._

\-------

Charlie was late. That wasn't abnormal per se, given how busy she kept herself.

Alastor fidgeted in his seat in the employee break room, which was now frequently used as a private meeting room. He wanted to get this meeting over with, wanted to get all of these scattered feelings he felt around her out of his system so he could leave the room and put professional distance between them once more.

The door swung open to reveal a slightly tired Charlie, notepad in hand. "Sorry I'm late. I almost had to break up a fight between Vaggie and Steel."

He felt a wide smile stretch his face. His heart seemed to skip at her voice and mere presence, as if the organ itself was just as happy as he was to see her after a short period of time away from her. It startled him a little. Goodness, he would have to figure how to ignore these dramatics.

"Not at all," he said jovially. "I bet it was quite the brawl. I can take a guess at who won."

"Nope," she chuckled slightly as she sat down. "No brawl, thank goodness for that. Vaggie even had her spear out and everything. But Steel had already seemed to smooth-talk his way out of it by the time I got there. Have you met them yet? Sanderson and Steel?"

"Not personally," he said. "But my shadows have. They've been keeping me informed." He paused. "Where is Vaggie, anyway?" If Charlie had just confronted Vaggie about a fight, then surely she would just follow Charlie to the break room afterwards.

Charlie frowned. "Vaggie's…probably not gonna show up for future meetings. She doesn't wanna be an employee anymore." She set the notepad down on the table, sank back in her chair, and crossed her arms over her chest as if to hug herself. "We, uh…"

Alastor tilted his head as he watched her. Her hands were rubbing up and down her arms, a sure sign of some form of distress or upset. "Do go on, my dear," he encouraged.

She sighed, not looking at him. "We broke up. Me and Vaggie."

His heart instantly soared at this information. His smile widened even more, completely elated. She was no longer bound to someone else. He could actually do something about these feelings that had filled him to the brim, almost spilling over.

He leaned forward and opened his mouth, ready to tell her all that had been on his mind, ready to tell her how much she truly meant to him.

He never got the chance.

His words died in his throat.

She hadn't relaxed her slumped and tensed position in her chair, and she had yet to even look at him. She continued to rub at her arms, almost clawing the sleeves. Her eyes were wet with sadness, but not quite crying.

All because he had asked a simple question.

His smile nearly faded from his face as he straightened himself against the seatback. He knew nothing of romance, of the proper etiquette. However, he knew Charlie. And while he might not know what she was like after a heartbreak, he had seen her sorrowful and upset on different occasions.

He didn't like it. She was always much more radiant when she was bright and smiling, confident and enthusiastic. He didn't like not seeing her so.

His hand twitched on the table, wanting to reach out to her like he did in the hallway after their shopping trip. He couldn't, though. He feared it would be too forward in this instance.

The next thing he would've done would be his normal brutal honesty. _'You are far better off without her.' 'Clearly she doesn't deserve your attentions.' 'Cheer up, my dear! You'll move on eventually.'_

No. Aside from how blatant it all was, his words would also be disrespecting Vaggie. He had no sympathy for the woman, especially seeing Charlie so heartbroken. However, Charlie didn't seem bitter in the slightest, though that was to be expected. All she seemed was upset and regretful.

He clenched his teeth, as if to physically stop his usual talkativeness. Once again, and on an entirely different matter, he had no idea what to do. He could not help with this, no matter how much he desperately wanted to.

"I…" He began carefully. "That is a shame." He paused. "Do you wish to talk about it?"

Charlie scrunched her brows for a few seconds, then she sighed. "No. Me and Vaggie talked for a good long while in the living room. Just…hashing things out. So, I think I'm fine. It's just, I…I would've never guessed it would be an end to things." She shook her head and finally looked at him. "Sorry. This is supposed to be a work meeting. Not that you really mind, probably," she smiled weakly. "You did say when you first got here that you enjoyed other peoples' misery."

His smile nearly disappeared altogether. "Not yours."

Charlie stared at him for a long moment, searching his eyes. What she was looking for, he didn't know, but he now selfishly had her undivided attention, something he always wanted. His heart stuttered again at this, and he needed to change this subject soon before he said something else too intimate.

"So, new clients you say," he suddenly spoke loudly with enthusiasm that was incredibly false, though he hoped Charlie didn't catch onto that. "And already giving us a run for our money, it seems. Speaking of which! Are you aware they're planning to rob us?"

Charlie's eyes widened. "You think so, too?"

"Think so," he laughed. "I know so. My shadows were the ones who let them into the Hotel, just as their job entails. They told me everything I needed to know before they even crossed the threshold."

Charlie shook her head confusedly. "But why would your shadows even let them in if they had bad intentions?"

"Their job is to keep threats out of the Hotel. They don't consider these urchins to be threats in the slightest. Just buffoons who are in way over their heads." He paused. "Steel was the one who broke the window and clawed open the safe."

Charlie sighed, rubbing her fingertips against her temple. "Okay," she said after a moment. "We can't have them lurking around and trying to steal things. There may be nothing of worth for them in the Hotel, but…" She paused before speaking again. "Well, that's not completely true, I guess. Anything of value would be in someone's personal room. And we can't risk them breaking into anyone's room." Charlie scowled contemplatively and worriedly.

"The solution is the same as before," Alastor supplied. "We use my shadows. Which I've already taken the liberty of doing so."

Charlie looked at him suspiciously. "What do you mean?"

"I've ordered my shadows to keep an eye on them. They can control every lock in the Hotel, so those two miserable sinners won't be able to break in anywhere even if they tried. They'll also inform me of any foul play in general."

"So," Charlie muttered uncertainly. "Your shadows are watching them like hawks." She shook her head. "I…I don't think that's a good idea. It…sends a wrong message."

"Only if they're caught," he shrugged. "You know how discreet they are. They know not to make themselves visible unless absolutely necessary. Our new clients won't ever know they were being watched."

"Spied," Charlie corrected bitterly. She sighed. "Maybe…Maybe we don't need to do all this. If they're really only interested in causing problems, maybe they…shouldn't be here anyway. The last thing I want is for anyone to not feel safe or secure here."

"Ah, I see your logic," Alastor nodded. "By the way, did Angel Dust never cause problems in the beginning?"

Charlie was thoughtful for a second, almost immediately understanding what Alastor was getting at. "Yeah. Quite a lot. He was rude, inconsiderate, overly crass, and didn't seem to care about anything or anyone."

"Precisely," he said. "You are constantly going to be dealing with fools who'd wish to do your hotel harm. By that logic and assumption, you may as well turn every demon away. Everyone in Hell is a demon. A cold-hearted sinner." He didn't see Charlie's sharp flinch when he said that. "You mustn't forget that for a second. Instead, use it. Use it to redeem them as you see fit, just as your plan has been all along. Treat them as you would any of us that already live here. In time, you may win them over like you did everyone else."

She tilted her head. "What do you mean?"

He shook his head and laughed. "You truly don't see it. What a shame." He abruptly reached across the table to tap the notepad. "I take it you have ideas for our new visitors?"

"Yeah," she said distractedly, trying to mull over his vague words, but getting nowhere. "Well, not new ideas. These are things that we've already come up with in recent meetings. I just wanted to discuss eventually implement them."

Charlie opened the notepad and talked about some key points she had written down, mostly about what it would be like to eventually do some form of therapy, and maybe even have certain activities scheduled as a form of structure and predictability. She also mentioned something about the concierge desk.

Alastor nodded his head every few moments or so, gave a 'yes' or 'no' when necessary, and tried to keep most of his attention on her instead of on the tangled mess in his mind.

Now that Vaggie and Charlie were no more, he should be considering jumping at the opportunity he longed for. It would do no good, though. Charlie was clearly still upset over it, and he didn't blame her. He wasn't quite sure how long her and Vaggie had known each other, or how long they'd been romantically involved. All he knew was how close they were, and how much they trusted each other.

No matter how much he wanted Charlie to be his, no matter how much he wanted to sweep her off her feet and confess to her, now was not the time. Charlie's feelings for Vaggie weren't just going to go away simply because he wished it so. And there was also another matter he had yet to take into account.

How was he to know if Charlie would even return his sentiments?

Honestly, he didn't know whether this new thought was him over-thinking things. She…seemed to enjoy his company. She also didn't seem the least bit afraid or uneasy around him. They'd had plenty of fun over the last few months. Implementing ideas, enjoying food together, and their dance… That wonderfully exhilarating dance that would be seared into his brain and onto his heart for the rest of eternity.

However, Charlie enjoyed everyone's company, even Husk's who was no ray of sunshine. Certainly her and Alastor's moments of companionship were nothing special.

And yet it was special to him.

"…stor…Alastor?"

He shook his head rapidly as her voice broke through his internal struggle. "Yes, my dearest." He mentally scolded himself at that. He'd never used that particular term of endearment with anyone other than her from what he could recall.

"You okay," she asked. "You kinda spaced out there for a bit."

"Yes," he responded too quickly. "Forgive me for that. I've been…rather distracted. Please, continue with what you were saying."

"Actually," she said with a light chuckle as she closed the notepad. "Like I said, it's nothing new. We've already gone over all of this, just…Maybe we can discuss things at a later date? If you're feeling distracted by something, I don't wanna make it worse by piling more things on."

He chuckled strangely. "Believe me when I say it's doubtful that you would make things worse." He stood up. "But I suppose you're right. I'm most certainly not in the mindset I should be for our business dealings. Same time next week?"

She smiled, but it didn't quite reach her ears. "Yeah," she said as she stood up as well. "Same time."

He opened the door for her, allowing her to walk ahead of him. Before they went their separate ways, a thought came to mind. It was a thought that wasn't necessary to ask, especially given that he felt he'd done nothing wrong, but he asked it anyway.

"I just now realized that I had rudely changed one of the subjects we were on earlier in the meeting, but…You are okay with my decision to use the shadows to watch those two vermin, yes?"

Charlie frowned at him. Then, after a few moments, she shook her head. "No, not really. At all," she admitted. "I feel like we're compromising any mutual respect. But…I see why you're doing it, and why you think it's a good idea. I don't like it, but if it's going to be best for the Hotel's well-being…" She sighed. "I'm…willing to give it a try. But please tell them to stop if we find out it's not a good idea."

"You forget that you can tell them yourself," he reminded. "My shadows have already taken to you and are more than willing to listen to you. Simply snap or twitch your fingers to call them to you, and tell them 'enough'. They know their place." He paused, feeling like this next part was also necessary for some reason. "It was not my intention to overstep."

Charlie shook her head with a small smile. "You didn't, really. You were just doing your job, with the Hotel's best interest at heart."

"Yes," he nodded. "The Hotel's."

"So, thank you. And thank you for communicating that to me. Y-You're right. We're always going to have sinners like them. Maybe using your shadows for security in this instance may be a good thing until we earn each other's trust. I don't like it, I think it's shady, but…I don't see another discreet way to go about it." She sighed. "We'll see how it goes, I guess. Have a good night, Al."

"You as well, my dear."

She flashed him one last smile, one that was wider and warmer and seemed just for him, and walked away.

As he was approaching his bedroom, he could feel his heart still skipping around in his chest from that smile. He sighed heavily.

Yes.

He would have to maintain professionalism from here on out.


	15. Cold

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I referenced Lassie. I don't own Lassie.

Sanderson and Steel, of course, had found absolutely nothing worth their while.

For the first few days of them living in the Hotel, they really tried. They jiggled doorknobs, attempted to root around in the odd drawer and cabinet, and were just really pushing their luck. Unfortunately for them, Alastor's shadows were doing a magnificent job, and the two thieves always found themselves unable to open any door.

Any at all.

Charlie really should've anticipated just how mischievous the shadows were going to be. They often unnecessarily locked things, such as the doors to the living room, dining hall, and even the front door of the Hotel. This wasn't just to mess with the new sinners, even though it was excessive with them. Apparently, on the off occasion, they would also do this with the others, especially Husk and Vaggie.

At some point, Charlie found a private corner of the Hotel. She hesitated, feeling a little intrusive. But after a few moments, she clicked her fingers. It was a soft and polite sound, barely even audible.

But nothing answered her. Nothing happened.

Charlie grimaced at her hand. Perhaps she was doing it wrong. Maybe they hadn't heard her.

She tried again, this time snapping her fingers loud enough to echo through the unused hotel room.

In the blink of an eye, a handful of Alastor's shadows surrounded her, grinning widely.

"Okay," she muttered to herself. She smiled slightly. "Uh, hi?"

A couple of them dipped their heads slightly in response, but did nothing else.

She sighed, feeling a little out of her depth. Despite the fact that she used to be a princess for many centuries, she had never wanted nor needed to command anyone. She had never even commanded Razzle or Dazzle, as it was her parents who would give them any necessary orders. Her giving orders to these shadows was still new to her.

Charlie took a deep breath. "Okay, look," she told them. "You-You're all doing a great job keeping this hotel secure, and I appreciate it, but…You've gotta give everyone here the same amount of access to the public areas of the Hotel. I know it's all in fun, but there's no reason why someone can't enjoy the living room, or the common areas, and things like that. And they definitely shouldn't have trouble going in and out of the front doors.

"Like I said, everything you're all doing is great, especially keeping the Hotel safe and everyone's personal rooms secured. But everything else? All the other stuff I mentioned?" She paused, and she hoped she was giving them a stern look, but it probably looked more like a weak grimace. "Please…stop?" She didn't mean to end it on a question, but she hoped she got her point across.

She was expecting a little defiance from the shadows, and maybe even some insulted or exasperated looks. Instead, they all gave her a nod, their smiles never faltering.

Then, one of the shadows went forward. It was a small blob of a thing, but equally as powerfully as the others. It seemed to be the quote-unquote runt of the lot. This was one of the shadows that Alastor had specifically commanded to keep a close eye on their newest residents. It drifted until it was in front of Charlie. It looked at her with a questioning half-grin.

Charlie nodded firmly. "Yes. Sanderson and Steel. Them, too. So long as they can't get into any personal rooms, so long as they don't find anything valuable to take, they also need to have access to the public areas just like everyone else."

Once again, Charlie expected this shadow and the others to be thoroughly annoyed, but if they were, they never let it on. They took these commands without hesitance or defiance, and…waited for further instruction. They just hovered there, still surrounding Charlie.

She chuckled awkwardly. "Yeah, that's, uh, that's all. Thank you."

On that note, they all disappeared, slithering out of the room at a speed that her eyes couldn't keep up with.

Even though Sanderson and Steel had now been given a little more freedom, thanks to Charlie's meeting with the shadows, she still kind of expected them to leave given that they hadn't been able to get their hands on anything. They were stubborn, it seemed. For some reason, they were intent on sticking around. Honestly, all things considered, they weren't that bad. Sure, Steel had a rough exterior and he often butted heads with Vaggie, but he wasn't exactly malicious. He only seemed like a jokester most of the time.

Sanderson had the role of peacemaker. From the looks of it, he had been involved in Steel's shenanigans for a very long time now, and he knew how to deal with him. He was also the one to encourage Steel to partake in the normal social activities, like meals and game nights. Steel wasn't interested in movie night, but game night was definitely up his alley, having been a con-artist when alive and possessing a competitive edge.

Everyone wasn't quite sure what to make of Sanderson and Steel at first. It's not that they didn't welcome them, it's just that it'd only been the six of them for so long now. It almost felt like an intrusion. And Steel and Sanderson just barely toed the line of being disruptive.

However, as a few weeks went by, and once everyone came to the realization that they weren't truly a threat despite their mischievous tendencies, they all gradually accepted each other.

Angel and Niffty thought Steel was a riot, with his jokes and tales of living on the streets with nothing but his wits. He didn't get along with everyone, especially once he offhandedly admitted to trying to swipe some of Husk's liquor. But he seemed to mostly just want to get his kicks somehow, all in fun.

Sanderson got along with pretty much everyone. After his initial aloofness wore off, he offered to do things more and more. He was still pretty shy, but he had no problems helping with dishes, doing some laundry, or serving popcorn during movie night. He claimed he had nothing better to do, so why not?

Whether it was all to simply play the part of willing redemption seekers, Charlie couldn't say. But all in all, Sanderson and Steel's presence was not a harmful thing. Especially because a new client joined the Hotel a little over a week after they did.

Baxter, a demon who almost resembled that of a lanky anglerfish, was extremely reclusive. He often didn't bother being social with anyone, opting to shut himself away with his experiments. The problem was that he'd been without a laboratory for nearly a year now, and he was losing his mind at not having a scientific outlet. It drove him to go out in public more, in search of a bigger place.

Sanderson and Baxter had met in passing many years ago when Baxter first arrived in Hell. They weren't what you call friends by any means, but they got along well enough. Between Baxter's obsessive need to work with chemicals and Sanderson's experimentation with medicine when alive, they occasionally bounced ideas off each other throughout the years.

So, when Baxter heard through the grapevine that Sanderson and his new partner had joined the redemption Hotel, he sneered at this. Aside from how ridiculous the idea of redemption was, Baxter also highly doubted they had laboratories up in Heaven.

Still, Baxter was not doing so well. He'd been evicted from multiple living situations on and off, and for very inconsequential reasons, in his opinion. So he sometimes blew up the odd apartment, and occasionally his experiments smoked out an entire building. So what? All in the name of science, if you asked him.

Unfortunately, he'd built up quite the reputation, and now no landlord within miles of Pentagram City dared to sign a lease with him. He spent his days hopping from motel to motel, and loitering and squatting when necessary. He didn't really have friends to stay with, not that he could tolerate anyone anyway.

But the Hazbin Hotel kept popping up in his mind. It was such a huge place, and it seemed to be free of chaos and aggravation. He never handled change all that well, and he didn't like interacting with anyone, but he had nowhere to live, and he was desperately and passionately missing having a laboratory.

"We don't have a laboratory," Charlie had explained to him apologetically as they walked the halls to pick out a room for him. "I'm sorry."

"I didn't expect you to," Baxter muttered tensely as he followed her. "All I need is a space big enough to build it, and I'll be fine. Your biggest room will have to do."

Charlie had to be fair, though, and she gave him a room as big as the ones nearly everyone else had. He had locked himself inside of it with a harsh huff. He only ever left that room to go outside of the Hotel for more supplies, or to use the deep kitchen sinks to clean up from his experiments, as his en suite didn't have an even remotely big enough sink.

He was something of a mad scientist, literally. He was very neurotic, needed things to be a certain way in order to not go completely insane, and one could often here clattering, bubbling, and sizzling coming from his room until the early hours of the morning. Despite his unpredictability, he was very non-confrontational, always opting to stay out of everyone's way so that he could be left alone.

Someone else in the Hotel was currently taking a leaf from Baxter's book, it seemed.

Charlie sighed through her nose.

She rarely saw much of Alastor these days.

He attended their meetings, sometimes hung out in the living room, made meals every day as per usual, and that was it. Between their meetings and normal get-togethers with everyone else, he seemed to all but disappear during lulls. When she first noticed this odd withdrawal on his part, she would sometimes go looking for him, but could never find him.

At first, Charlie thought he was avoiding her. She'd been so emotional for many months now, and he looked like he didn't always know what to do during those instances. Perhaps she'd driven him away.

She immediately quieted those thoughts, knowing that she must be jumping to conclusions. Alastor was a very social person, but he was also very independent, too. He'd been living in the Hotel for several months now. Whenever he was when not being social, maybe he just really needed his alone time. Sort of like how Charlie had needed some rare alone after their shopping trip.

Yes, that was understandable. That was probably the case. So, Charlie tried to always think of that and to not take it too personally. However…

She missed swapping stories, talking about his food, hearing his laughter, and even enjoying their quieter moments. She missed hanging out with him. She missed his company.

She missed him.

Charlie walked the halls, trying to find something to do before her next meeting with Alastor in less than an hour. She wondered if she should talk to him about it, if only to make sure he was alright, and if she needed to do anything on her end to help.

These thoughts were interrupted by mass amounts of glass smashing to the floor, followed by irate shouting. Charlie swiftly followed the sounds until she came to a halt in front of the dining hall door.

"Looks like I caught you red-handed," Steel sneered, pointing at the shards of glass scattered over the table, chairs, and carpet.

"What does that even mean," Baxter snarled, a now empty cardboard box hanging from his grip. "Red-handed doing what?" He pointed to the kitchen doors on the other side of the room. "I was merely about to use the kitchen sink to clean my beakers. That is, until you shoved them out of my hands."

Charlie cringed as she walked into the dining room, knowing how this could end with Steel's hotheadedness. There was no Sanderson to talk him down. There was no one else in the room. It was just her and them.

"Charlie," Steel greeted with an arrogant grin. "Finally! Some authority here! Look. Half the glasses are missing off this here table. Wonder who coulda taken 'em."

"You think I stole them," Baxter snapped. "For what reason?"

"You were griping the other day that you didn't have enough beakers. All this extra glass seems right up your alley."

"What proof do you have?!"

"What do you call all this glass thrown everywhere?!"

"Guys," Charlie loudly tried.

"All of this glass," Baxter said through clenched teeth, voice getting low. "This was nearly all of my beakers, and you smashed every last one of them. I have no money to replace them. Do you, you shifty conman?"

"Yeah," Steel chuckled, going around until the table was no longer separating them. Charlie immediately got in between them, and she was surprised when Steel respectfully stopped and kept a distance. However, he didn't stop his lack of filter. "Yeah, I'm a conman. One of the greatest, too, while we're passing out compliments. But at least I own up to it. Unlike you, you slimy, screw-loose, crackpot."

They threw punches, scratches, and kicks at each other in a rabid frenzy. Charlie had each of her hands on their chests, just barely keeping them apart. She knew a thing or two about fighting, but she wasn't physically strong, and she'd always been fine with that. But now she desperately wished she had invested at least some money in a weight-lifting set for the Hotel. Her arms shook against their pushing, pulling, and jerking weights.

Suddenly, mercifully, Baxter took off running through the dining hall, allowing Charlie to drop her one hand. The relief lasted for only a millisecond, because Steel followed, racing after him.

Charlie huffed as she watched the two trying to get at each other. Thankfully, the table was in their way again, giving Charlie some time to think the next step through. Not much time though, because they started throwing tableware at each other.

She groaned and shook her head. She knew it was risky on her part, but she didn't see an alternative. Charlie curled her fingers and lifted her arms high into the air.

Steel and Baxter shouted terrified profanities when two walls of searing fire shot up in front of them. Not only did it do a better job of keeping them separate than the table did, but it also got them to stop fighting and focus on something else other than each other.

Keeping her arms raised to maintain the fire, she walked towards them as calmly as she could.

"Just…stop," she said to them desperately. As she spoke, she could feel beads of sweat already forming on her temples. "Please. None of this is necessary. Baxter," she turned a little to face him. "We'll figure out how to replace your beakers." She then turned towards Steel, not realizing that her fingers had now started to tremble. "And Baxter didn't steal anything. Husk had dishes duty tonight. That's why half of the glasses on the table are missing."

Steel's eyes widened sheepishly. "Oh."

"Why would Husk need to clean glasses that are already clean," Baxter asked almost conversationally.

"Smudged up glass," Steel responded with a shrug. "He's weird about that kinda thing."

Charlie exhaled harshly, now feeling her hands and arms starting to shake, as if she was holding up a lead weight. "Before I put this fire out…I'm gonna need you to apologize to each other."

They only exchanged petulant mumbles for many seconds, as well as heavy death glares. Charlie bowed her head and huffed. Sweat was now dripping down her face, and the fire was beginning to flicker weakly.

"Ugh," Charlie grunted. "I'm sorry, but neither of you are leaving this room until you're both on better terms."

Steel glanced between the fire, Charlie, and Baxter. Then, he flexed his jaw. "Eh, son of a bitch." He scratched at the back of his neck. "I'm a shit-stirrer, what can I say. Agree to disagree and whatnot?"

Baxter's eyebrows came together suspiciously, but he did relax some. "Yes. Agreed."

Not only was this good enough for Charlie, but it was enough in general. She dropped her hands with a gasp, and the fire immediately disappeared. She leaned exhaustedly against the table for support.

"Uh, you good there, Charlie," Steel asked.

"Yeah," she exhaled shakily. "I will be. I don't use my powers all that often. Not always a good thing." She smoothed her hand over her sweat-soaked forehead and brushed some stray hairs away from her face. "Are you two good now?"

"I believe so," Baxter said, still with a look of suspicion.

"Yeah," Steel nodded. "I thought you stole 'em. How else was I supposed to react?"

"Maybe by not jumping to conclusions, damnit!"

"Wait, wait, wait," Charlie suddenly said, looking at Steel. "You mean you really thought he stole the glasses? You weren't just trying to get a rise out of him."

Steel scoffed. "When was the last time you seen me do something like that? No! If there was one good thing that got through my stupid skull when I was alive…It was protect your turf. Nothing else matters except your chums, and what you own. I wasn't about to let no crazy hermit take nothing from us."

Steel suddenly grimaced, as if embarrassed by something. "Uh, 'cause you know, don't want you getting to the good stuff or nothing. Don't need you thinking you can have everything and shit."

Baxter exasperatedly pinched the space between his safety goggles. "You people are so strange," he mumbled.

"And, uh," Steel continued. "I'll spot you some cash for the extra beakers." He scoffed humorously. "If I don't forget by that point, that is."

Baxter rolled his eyes and left the room.

"So emotional," Steel snickered as he also began leaving the room. "I'll track down Niffty. She'll have a blast in here. See you around, Charlie."

"Yeah," Charlie grunted. "See you."

Only when it was just her in the room did Charlie bring her shaking hands to her face. She was still leaning against the table, as it was the only thing keeping her upright. She rubbed her hands roughly over her skin, which resulted in large droplets of sweat to sting at her eyes. Groaning, she placed one of her hands on the table and pushed herself away, hoping it'd give her the necessary momentum to leave the dining hall and go to her bedroom. She didn't notice that her own handprint had left a scorch mark on the tabletop.

She shuffled through the halls, occasionally pushing her hand against a wall to keep herself steady. She once again swiped at her eyes, hoping to clear away some of the sweat that seemed to be blinding her. She had to stop when she felt her knees beginning to shake.

She slowly let the side of her body connect with the wall. Her eyes were now completely shut against the growing exhaustion, but it was no big deal. Her bedroom should only be a few more feet away. Just a few…more…

She slid against the wall. Her world spun. It continued spinning even after she hit the floor.

Her world went dark.

She could've sworn she felt a wet snout nudge her hand before completely losing consciousness.

\-------

Fat Nuggets' ears pricked up.

Quicker than Angel could keep up with, the pig sprang out of his little bed, jumped at the door, nearly chewed the doorknob off, and escaped the room.

Angel, who had been sitting on his own bed, tossed his magazine aside. "Hey! You kidding me, Nuggs," he exclaimed as he took off after him, but Fat Nuggets was already far ahead of him by that point.

He raced out of his bedroom, with only the sound of his tiny hooves to guide him in that general direction. He slowed to a stop when Fat Nuggets came into view. He was sitting beside Charlie, who was lying motionlessly on the floor.

"What? Are you Lassie, now," he asked the pig as he walked over to them. "Okay," he exhaled as he knelt down. Eyebrows scrunched together, he awkwardly angled himself to see Charlie's face, and saw that her eyes were closed and her brows were pulled together in discomfort. Her hands were curled against her body, with something like smoke rising faintly from her fingertips

He frowned deeply. "Uh, hey. What'cha got going on here?...Hey," he said a little louder, reaching his hand out to shake her shoulder. "Charlie, what – Ow! Son of a fucking bitch!"

He shot to his feet, shaking his fingers rapidly too cool them. "Jesus," he gasped as he inspected his hand, searching for any burn marks. He looked down at her, baffled. "The hell's going on with you?" Hesitantly, he tapped the bottom of her shoe with his boot. "Come on, wake up. I don't know what to do!"

He ran his hand through his hair as he paced a little. He stopped as soon as he saw Fat Nuggets nudging Charlie's hand.

"Hey! No, no, no," he exclaimed as he dove down and scooped him up. "Don't do that." Even though Fat Nuggets hadn't been burned, Angel still swiped his thumb gently over his snout as he stared helplessly at Charlie. He sighed. "Well, shit," he muttered. "Now I gotta bother your over-protective bitch of an ex-girlfriend. Be right back. Don't go anywhere."

As he quickly turned away and set off to find Vaggie, Fat Nuggets squirmed irritably in his arms. "No, I ain't leaving you alone with her. You're going back to our room. You lack self-preservation."

After he dropped Fat Nuggets off, and after making sure to lock the door so he couldn't escape again, he sprinted for Vaggie's room. When he arrived, he rapidly knocked on her door. It slowly opened.

"What," Vaggie asked in a neutral tone.

"You may wanna do something about the Hotel's ray of sunshine," Angel suggested. "She's passed out in the hall, not looking too good, and well on her way to burning a hole in the floor."

Vaggie's face screwed up, trying to make sense of his words. ' _Burning a hole in the floor…_ ' Vaggie's eyes widened. "Oh, shit," she gasped loudly. Angel yelped when she suddenly grabbed the front of his suit and got in his face. "Take me to her! Right. Now."

"Jesus, why do you think I'm here bothering you," he said, roughly prying her hand off.

Angel ran ahead, and Vaggie was so close behind him she nearly kicked at his heels. When they got to Charlie, the carpet in the near vicinity was now charred grayish-black around her. Vaggie veered around Angel, and she skidded to her knees beside her. Out of worry, out of reflex, she placed her hand on Charlie's shoulder to shake her.

"Son of a bitch," she screeched, flinching sharply and tucking her smarting hand against her chest. "Why'd I do that? I'm such an idiot!" After the pain subsided, she awkwardly angled herself sideways to get a better look at Charlie's face without having to touch her, but her view was largely blocked due to half of her face resting on the carpet and the other half being almost completely shielded by disheveled golden hair.

Vaggie sat back on her heels, putting her hands to her face and groaning helplessly into her palms.

"Uh, what's even going on here?"

Without looking up at him, Vaggie ordered, "Go get a cold glass of water."

He scoffed sarcastically. "'Cause she obviously looks aroused."

Vaggie's hands fell to her thighs in exasperation. "Is everything one big sex joke to you?"

"It is if I try hard enough."

"Oh my god, Angel, do you not see her! Just go get the damn-"

"Yeah! And I'm worried, too, goddamnit!"

Vaggie stared at him, teeth clenched out of stress. Angel was looking down at her with a scowl that was slowly morphing into a concerned frown. "I'm getting it," he muttered as he turned down the hall towards the kitchen.

Vaggie sighed as she looked at Charlie. Obviously, Charlie had felt compelled to use her powers for some reason. She didn't like using her powers. This didn't always happen as a result of it, but when it did, she would normally just trudge to her room to sleep it off. Vaggie couldn't get near her when she was like this, so she often never saw how bad it could truly get.

Vaggie cringed sharply when Charlie suddenly groaned and curled in on herself. Sparks of fire flickered in her hands, and something truly disturbing followed.

A flash of dark red horns on the top of her head.

Charlie rarely used her demonic form, even when up against another demon. Vaggie blinked, not sure if she was seeing things. When she did so, she no longer saw any demonic traces on her, aside from the burnt floor and occasional smoke from her hands.

"Here," Angel suddenly appeared as he handed her a large glass of overflowing ice water. Vaggie stuck her hand in the glass and tossed the ice cubes somewhere behind her shoulder.

Angel leaned against the wall as he watched Vaggie slowly, gently, painstakingly pour the water over Charlie's face.

Charlie's shoulders twitched whenever the water hit her, but just barely.

"Charlie," Vaggie murmured. "Can you hear me?"

The lines between Charlie's brows deepened, but her mouth moved open and closed in silent affirmation.

Vaggie sighed with some relief. "Look, I know this is a loaded question, but do you think you'll be able to make it back to your room anytime soon?"

Charlie's scowl of discomfort deepened. The side of her head rasped quietly against the carpet as she shook it once, slowly. The scorch marks in the carpet beneath her cheeks now started burning into tiny embers.

"Shit," Vaggie muttered. If she stayed in the hallway any longer….How was she supposed to explain to Charlie that she burned down her own Hotel?

"What exactly is going on," Angel asked.

Vaggie opened her mouth to explain, but was cut off by familiar, aggravating radio static.

"My, how interesting," Alastor exclaimed as he turned around the corner. He breezed right passed a thoroughly annoyed Vaggie and stopped next to Charlie, peering down at her. "Does Charlie often take naps in hallways?"

Vaggie's lips curled back in a snarl. "Go someplace else. This has nothing to do with you."

Alastor was ignoring her, not even looking at her. "How did this happen exactly," he asked.

Vaggie scowled again. "You clearly didn't hear me the first time. Get lost."

She swiftly leaned away from him when he suddenly bent his entire upper body to lean down towards Charlie. "There is clearly magic of some sorts at work here. And magic is something I'm familiar with. Perhaps I could be of help."

She scoffed. "No one's ever been able to help her when she gets like this. Not me, not Razzle, not Dazzle…Not even her own parents."

Alastor watched curiously as a random spark of fire flickered on Charlie's fingertips. "Ah," he realized as he reached his hand out. "So it's her powers that are causing this?"

"Sort of," Vaggie said. "But it's – No! Wait! Stop! You're gonna – "

She fell silent. Stunned.

She watched as Alastor's palm ghosted across Charlie's cheek. He tucked some of her hair behind her shoulder, away from her face. All the while, he was looking at Charlie with an expression Vaggie had never seen from him before. His smile was still there, but it was small and contemplative, and there were deep creases in between his eyebrows for some reason.

"How," she breathed as she watched the slow, almost careful movements of his hand. "How are you able to touch her?"

He once again ignored her. Well, just that question at least. "What's normally done when this happens to her?"

Vaggie shook her head stiffly. "Normally…Nothing. She sort of just has to…deal with it. Ride it out."

"And what exactly is going on?"

"That's none of your business," she spat.

He chuckled, but it lacked its usual mirth. "How do you expect me to help her, then?"

"I," Vaggie stammered for a few seconds. "I-I'm not expecting you! No one is! Just – just like how no one expected you to take over the fucking Hotel!" That last sentence was a bit of a low blow, she knew, and it really didn't have anything to do with the matter at hand, but she couldn't stop it from coming out.

The way he's able to touch her without getting burned, the way his hand moved across her hair and face with care, the way he continued to look at her with a soft, maybe even concerned expression that she didn't think the Radio Demon was capable of possessing…

Vaggie felt something heavy in her chest. Was it dread? Envy? Protectiveness? All three of those things combined? She wasn't sure. However, her thoughts kept going back to how he gently touched Charlie, that he _could_ touch her, could possibly help her.

Something that she wasn't capable of doing.

"S-sometimes," she reluctantly spoke through clenched teeth, and the weight seemed to grow. "Sometimes her powers backfire. Not always, but sometimes. It's one of the reasons why she doesn't use them that often. This is the result, the excess, or whatever you wanna call it."

Vaggie glanced away from Alastor and Charlie to stare at the ice she had tossed away. Most of it had melted completely by now. She continued to speak. "Ideally, she'd have just enough energy to at least walk to her room and rest, but this time…I don't know what happened. Maybe she used them for a minute too long? I don't know."

"Wouldn't she just burn right through her bed," Angel spoke up for the first time in many minutes, still leaning against the wall, almost as if he was standing watch.

Vaggie shook her head at him. "No, her bed and her covers have always been flame retardant, mostly for this reason."

"Hmm," Alastor hummed, getting Vaggie's attention again. His hand had yet to leave Charlie's sweaty face, and the back of his thumb was stroking over the corner of her jaw, though he didn't seem to be aware of that particular action. He stared at Charlie's face for a few more minutes before, "Very well, then."

Abruptly, he tucked his hands underneath Charlie's body, and lifted her. He could feel the charred fibers of the carpet getting stuck in between his fingers when he did this, but he ignored that as he adjusted her more comfortably in his arms. Still very much unconscious, Charlie let out a disoriented groan, and her head lolled until her forehead was resting against his upper arm.

Vaggie shot to her feet. "What the fuck do you think you're doing?!" A voice inside her head nagged her, almost taunting her. _Alastor can help, remember?_

Alastor raised a brow at her. "You said she needs rest, did you not?"

"Yes, but – No! I mean – Just – Why do you even wanna help?!"

"You said that's what needs to be done for her." He then smirked. "Besides, it does me no good if my business partner doesn't get proper rest. Imagine me running this hotel alone." He paused to laugh loudly. "Actually, what fun that would be!"

He laughed again, and Vaggie's teeth clenched as she watched the Radio Demon turn away with Charlie in his arms.

She shook her head stubbornly. "I'm going with you."

"No need. Instructions were simple."

"To make sure you're not up to anything-"

He cut off her sentence by abruptly spinning around to face her. "Do you remember when you brazenly approached me and accused me of using my shadows simply to show off to Charlie?"

Vaggie nodded hesitantly.

"And do you remember what I told you afterwards?"

Vaggie's eyes slowly widened. She glanced rapidly between Alastor and the unconscious Charlie resting securely in his arms. "You…" she muttered. "Y-you actually-"

"I have no other motive," he said quietly. He didn't wait to see any further reaction from her. He glanced down at Charlie, and then walked away from the area, with Vaggie staring after them.

Angel was no longer leaning against the wall, but was now fully standing up. With a sympathetic frown, he walked over to her and put his hand on her shoulder. "Vags-"

She shoved him aside, and walked away.


	16. Talking

In the past few weeks, Alastor had gone to his and Charlie's usual meetings, attended a few game nights and other friendly gatherings, and ate meals with everyone on a nearly every day basis. However, he was only social to an extent. Whenever he wasn't doing something related to his job as co-owner, he would purposefully disappear to any secluded part of the Hotel so as not to appear too eager for Charlie's company.

It was all so professional, as co-owners should be. Yes, all that professionalism and cold distance he'd put between himself and Charlie was going exactly as well as he had hoped.

He hated every single second of it.

For too long now he'd been without their light conversation. For too long now he'd been without her bright smile and lovely laughter.

She had sensed something was wrong with him right off the bat, seeing how lost in thought he had gotten during that meeting from a couple weeks ago. From then on, the way she looked at him had changed. He didn't see her bright smile too often anymore, being replaced with a concerned and confused frown. Concern for him, and as to why he was acting so detached now.

He missed her. And seeing the way she looked at him, she seemed to miss him as well. Much to his conflicted delight.

He hated the distance he'd put between them.

This was not exactly how he envisioned closing that distance.

It was normal for Charlie to be late for their meetings, but he'd waited in that break room for a solid half an hour before deciding to go look for her. He was, admittedly, worried and only wanted to be certain that something had simply snagged her attention for longer than usual.

He certainly wasn't expecting to see her curled up in one of the hallways, surrounded by Angel Dust, Vaggie, and burnt carpet.

His first thought was to barbarically push Vaggie aside so that he could tend to Charlie. He'd never seen her in that much discomfort, and barely conscious. However, despite his reputation as a random and ruthless being of chaos, he prided himself on being able to think things through. He wanted answers to the situation, and when he saw Vaggie pour some of the contents of a glass of water carefully and deliberately over Charlie's tense face, he knew that she would be the one to provide them. Ah, irony was lovely like that.

He would've never guessed that her powers would be the cause, and he wondered why that was.

With the least amount of jostling he could manage, Alastor slowly slid Charlie out of his arms onto the king-sized bed. Once she was settled there, he went all the way around to the other side of the bed and pinched the edges of the comforter. He shuffled himself onto the mattress as he pushed the blankets across the bed, until he could place all of it snuggly over Charlie's form.

He sat there for a while, staring at her. He was in a bed, next to Charlie, while she lay unconscious. Most people from his time would've considered this situation to be downright scandalous for a number of reasons. His first instinct was to leave the room to give her privacy, but every now and then a wince would flash across her face or a strained huff would escape from her throat.

He…He couldn't leave. He didn't want to leave her vulnerable.

Nor did he want to feel useless.

He contemplated conjuring some of his voodoo literature to see if there was any way to ease things for her. However, she had the bloodline of two very powerful beings and he didn't want to risk making things worse for her.

At some point, Charlie turned to face him, and for a hopeful moment he thought she was awakening. Instead, she exhaled harshly, eyes still closed and her fingers digging into the mattress.

This movement allowed him to see the scorch marks beginning to burn into the linens. He dared to lean closer to her, and he very carefully reached his hand outwards. He ran his index finger over the scorched linens, just shy of touching her. As his finger went, the marks disappeared. After reassuring himself that there were no more left, he lifted his hand and summoned a decent amount of his mysterious voodoo symbols. Relaxing his wrist, he let the symbols tumble from his hand and fall to the bed like dust, avoiding Charlie of course. The symbols faded and disappeared between the thinnest and microscopic spaces throughout the fibers.

Alastor dusted his hands off. That should make it so Charlie doesn't set the bed and the room on fire. There now! Not useless at all! He smirked, rather proud of himself.

Then, the smirk nearly disappeared from his face as he watched her.

Charlie curled into a tense ball. Fire and smoke began billowing from her hands as red horns protruded from the top of her head. Alastor observed this with morbid curiosity. It wasn't quite her demonic form, as he'd seen more of it during her news performance. This was only partial it seemed, as if she didn't have the strength to use her full form.

Sinners only reverted to their demonic form in situations of excitement, high stress, or defense. Obviously, Charlie was not experiencing excitement in the slightest, so the logical conclusion was that she was only feeling the involuntary need because…

She wasn't feeling safe.

Something harsh constricted in Alastor's chest at this realization. And before he could stop his usually composed face from doing so, he winced.

Every sinner in Hell feared him, even the mere mention of his name. As far as his presence goes, all he ever had to do was smile, and it was always enough to send worthless fools screaming and running for their lives. He found it absolutely entertaining that no one dared to want to get close to him.

And then there was Charlie. Gentle, caring, kind, lovely Charlie. The only being in Hell who wasn't afraid of him, and to thoroughly enjoy his company.

Even if he technically was not the cause nor the issue, he absolutely could not _stand_ that she was feeling fearful in his presence. He hadn't realized he had shifted to lie on his side and that he was now only a couple inches away from her. He was only made aware of this when he felt the backs of his fingers brushing over her clammy jaw.

He retracted his hand away from her so abruptly that the muscles all throughout his arm spasmed in protest. That wasn't an even remotely appropriate move on his part, no matter how involuntary it was. Aside from the fact that she wasn't awake to accept and acknowledge such a gesture, she also had yet to accept his cold, mangled heart. If she would ever even want to.

Frustratedly, but respectfully, he shifted back a few inches.

He also could not stand how at a loss he was. He wasn't used to not being able to control or take over a situation. This situation frustrated him even more so because he didn't have a hope in hell of being able to help the only _one_ in Hell he cared so deeply for.

He pushed himself upright to lean his back against the headboard yet again. He continued to watch her tensely struggle, continued to watch her demonic attributes trying to force themselves to the surface.

He fidgeted, desperate to do something, desperate to help her. He steadfastly sifted through his brain for any ideas. What assistance could he provide? What was he good at? Well, he still thought he wasn't remotely good with empathy, so he might as well forget that. He was good at blatancy, but that would do no good given that she wasn't even awake to benefit from it.

Talking!

That's what he was good at! And she always seemed to like their talks.

Well, what the hell!

"It's been a rather boring week so far," he randomly began. "If it even has been a week. I seem to lose track of time when we're apart, and not in the good way. No, time moves at such a snail's pace, it always seems. But I digress.

"I gave Husker the order to clean up the concierge desk, which he was oddly in the process of doing so already. And I made all those pesky decaying keys ready to use with a snap of my fingers. The look on Steel's face, he forgot he was even capable of locking their room! That Baxter fellow, of course, was all too happy for a set.

"Then, sometime later, Niffty and Husker roped me into playing another game of cards. They were certain this time they could beat me, especially because they'd made the game up on the spot and the rules were very flimsy. They didn't think I'd take the game over, as if there were rules to begin with. So, I added ten years onto their debts for their troubles!

"Speaking of trouble, it's doubtful we have much to worry about where Steel and Sanderson are concerned. For some reason, they seem determined to stay despite the fact that you barely have any money left to your name."

He paused to watch her. Her shoulders were no longer hunched, but fire still occasionally sparked from her fingers, as well as her horns still making an occasional appearance.

He sighed. "And that has something to do with you. You have this…this charm that seems to draw hopeless fools in. No one even wanted to watch you advertise your hotel on television, much less sing about it, and yet none of them could look away. Despite how laughable it all was, you accomplished what you had set out to do...You made them listen. I don't know if that was enough, even despite our new clients, but…"

He paused to lie back down, and he shifted, until there were only a few inches of space between them once again. She was still curled up into a tight, unforgiving ball of sheer discomfort.

For some reason, this proximity wasn't enough, and he longed to be even closer to her. He didn't even know what he would do if he were closer, all he knew was that he wanted to make all of this go away for her somehow.

"But it was enough for me, for some reason," he continued, his voice dropping to a murmur. "You drew me in from the very beginning. With your theatrics, your boldness, your passion behind your deranged idea. The enthusiasm you effortlessly exuded is an enthusiasm I've been searching many decades for.

"And then something miraculous happened. You helped me find that enthusiasm, that thrill…by making me fall in love with you. You stole my heart without my realizing it, and I'm not quite sure what gave you the audacity to do so, but you did it anyway. And, _by god_ , if it's not the most mind-consuming, tiresome, pulse-pounding, warmest, loveliest thing I've ever felt."

He hadn't realized how soft and low his voice had become, hadn't realized that he'd looked away from her, hadn't realized the effect of his words, until Charlie uttered a deep sigh.

He immediately put his attention back on her. There was no more smoke or fire coming from her hands, and many seconds passed by before he came to the conclusion that her horns were probably done making an appearance as well.

Beneath the covers, her legs slowly and languidly stretched out. Her hands were no longer gripping the linens for dear life, and were now resting limply next to her face on the pillow. Her features were still a little tense, but her eyes no longer looked like they were screwed shut, and her teeth weren't audibly grinding together.

She snuggled her face against the pillow, inhaling and exhaling deeply once more, before settling completely.

A smile slowly spread across his face. How strange that his voice, filled with arrogance, blatancy, and intrusive radio static, managed to make her feel more at ease than what he was anticipating.

When she pressed herself further into the pillow, she had unintentionally shifted herself closer to him, until he could feel the updraft of her steady breathing warming his face.

He chuckled lamely. Yes, professional distance was currently out the window, obviously. And…he was hoping beyond all hope that there wouldn't be a need for that distance any longer.

So as long as Charlie would have him.


	17. No More Distance

Everything was extremely quiet, even the flames.

They burned around her, within her, its smoke masking and smothering everything. But why? Why couldn't she get out? Why couldn't she bend it to her will? …Wait…

Ah.

If memory served, she'd used her powers. Her beautiful, stupid, stifling powers.

A tremor wracked her body as the flames licked at her, though she felt no heat. It felt freezing. And yet she couldn't get warm or cold either way.

This has happened before, nothing to be alarmed about. She would just sleep it off in the comfort of her own bed. However, there was something unfamiliar beneath her. It was soft, but unforgiving. A floor, it seemed. Not her bed.

She tensed. She was vulnerable, she couldn't let anyone see her like this. Unfortunately, she heard voices, very familiar ones, but they didn't quite break through the smoke.

A splash of something cold against her face didn't extinguish the flames, but it did temper them for a few moments. A woman was asking her questions. She recognized this voice, but she couldn't quite place it, and her words were very muffled. She couldn't make any of it out. Still, she stiffly shook her head once or twice just to simply supply an answer.

Seconds later, as to be expected after a short lull, the flames and smoke came back full force, and she couldn't hear anything for quite some time.

Quite suddenly, her world spun when she was suddenly lifted away from the ground. A newer voice was talking, and there was radio static all around her. She tried leaning herself towards the familiar sound, but something was wrapped around her, keeping her still and secure.

Then, there was something soft beneath her again, this time cozy and fluffy. Unfortunately, whatever had been wrapped around her had disappeared, as did the radio static. She curled in on herself, not knowing what to do at the loss. Well, at least it felt like she was in her bed now.

The flames kept licking at her, and the smoke kept billowing and suffocating. She was trapped, and just like times previous, she would just have to wait it out, wait for it all to die down on its own.

Suddenly, the voice and the radio static were back. He spoke boisterously to her at first, as if nothing was wrong. Minutes passed by like this, with someone familiar speaking to her, and her listening as intently as possible. Gradually, the voice became gentler the more he spoke, and she desperately wished she could reach out and physically touch it.

His words were clearer than the woman's had been, but she still couldn't make out any specifics. Still, the more he talked, the more the smoke and fire tamed. She allowed the warmth in his voice to fill her, because she knew it would go away eventually.

The kind of state that she was in always unsettled her when it happened. The vulnerability, the helplessness, the discomfort.

The warmth and softness in that _oh so_ familiar voice made her feel safe and confident, like she could do anything. She wasn't quite ready to awaken, but this was an improvement all the same. Even when his voice disappeared, even after the radio static faded…

For the first time in her life, she was able to control it all, all by herself.

The flames and smoke now kept a respectful distance.

\-------

Normally when Charlie awoke from this affair, she was quite groggy and went to sleep immediately afterwards for another few hours or even up to a day.

This time was different.

Very, very different.

She felt okay. Not perfect, still sort of tired, but her head was pretty clear. She had yet to open her eyes, actually wanting to rest rather than feeling like it was a necessity to do so. She snuggled into her pillow, inhaling and exhaling.

Her nose crinkled. Her bed smelled different than usual. It almost smelled like cooking spices and…some sort of metal. Though, not quite metal, there was something very distinctive about it. It was an odd combination, but not unpleasant. Curious, she rubbed the heels of one of her hands against her eyelids and she slowly opened them.

The first thing she noticed was that these weren't her usual bed sheets, given their dark coloration. Perhaps Niffty had replaced them. Things got even more bizarre as she did a quick glance at a small section of the room. She was lying on her side and staring at dark walls that didn't look like her own, making her do a double-take.

Now beyond confused, she turned a little and sat up, grunting at the slight stiffness in her joints. Previously passing out on the hallway floor had not done wonders.

She gazed around more. From the walls, to the ceiling, to the kitchenette, and to the bare wooden floor, Charlie quickly concluded that this wasn't her room. At all. Her eyebrows scrunched. It was still familiar, though, like she'd been here before. It felt familiar. She continued searching with her eyes, hoping that something about this room would jog her -

She clapped a hand over her mouth to smother her gasp and she jumped so sharply that she nearly fell off the edge of the bed. She stared at the other side of the bed, her eyes wider than they'd ever been.

...Alastor was lying right next to her.

Charlie blinked rapidly.

…There…

…There were too many things to process.

She wasn't in her bedroom. She was in _his_.

These weren't her bed covers. They were his.

She was in his bed.

She was in a bed with the infamous Radio Demon.

Charlie moved her hand to her forehead, her head spinning. "How…" she whispered to herself. _How did I even end up here? Does…Does Alastor even know I'm here? With him?_ As ridiculous of a thought as this was, she highly doubted that Alastor had carried her to his room given that he was too private of a person for that. However, it did kind of seem like he knew she was here, given that he was inches away from her and facing towards her.

He was on his side, eyes closed and very much asleep. He was in an interesting position that looked rather uncomfortable. His arms were stiffly stretched outward towards her side of the bed, and his neck was at an unnatural angle due to the side of his head resting directly against the headboard instead of the pillows.

She noticed that he was lying on the mattress, sans covers. Likewise, she also noticed that _she_ was in possession of all that. The comforter and sheet were tucked around her in a bulky and warm cocoon.

Three things happened involuntarily as she continued to stare at Alastor's sleeping form. One, she brought the covers more snuggly around herself. Two, she slowly sank down to lie on her side again.

And three, she inhaled again. The linens also smelled just like his cooking, but she couldn't quite place the odd metallic scent. Hmm. Maybe it had something to do with pots and pans…? She actually wasn't quite sure, and that theory didn't feel right in all honesty.

She pushed some of the covers aside to rest her temple against one of his pillows again. The scent was even stronger and she practically melted against the pillow. She…She liked how it smelled.

She continued to gaze at him, far too curious about how she'd ended up here, how long she'd been here, why he seemed enough at ease to fall asleep next to her, and…

For the first time since waking up, for the first time since she noticed who she was sharing a bed with, Charlie noticed something very obvious last.

Alastor wasn't smiling.

At all.

Not even a scowl or a sneer.

To be fair, he wasn't frowning either and he was asleep. He had a tired and neutral expression on his face, as if the smile he usually wore could now relax completely and fade away.

Despite how awkward his sleeping position looked, he seemed deeply and contentedly asleep. Charlie should be looking away, having been staring at him for a very inappropriate amount of time. But when would she get this opportunity again, to see him as content as he is now?

He'd been so…off these past few weeks. He'd been social for the most part, but there was a lack of his usual enthusiasm, as if taking part in things was no longer entertaining to him. He'd been acting tense, too, especially during their meetings. He was as helpful as always, but not as talkative.

Charlie gave a small smile, happy that he was relaxed right now, and seemingly okay about lying in bed only inches away from her. The last thing she'd want is for him to feel uncomfortable because of her.

However, her usual professionalism nagged at the back of her mind. She didn't know whether Alastor would want her to see him without his smile, his most signature look. Most likely not. With a disappointed frown, she twisted herself to face away from him.

She debated on quietly getting up and going to her bedroom to give Alastor his privacy back, but a thought occurred to her. She brought the covers tighter around herself and closed her eyes with a comfortable sigh. She didn't feel tired at all, which was abnormal for her in this instance. But the next wave of drowsiness was sure to come, and she didn't want it to hit while she was up and about and collapse in the hallway again. Plus, he hadn't personally kicked her out yet.

And, well, it felt cozy being wrapped up in his blankets.

As she waited for sleep to take her again, she fidgeted with a loose string of fabric from the comforter. It was yet another mind-blowing reminder that she wasn't in her bed, but in Alastor's. She could feel her face heating up, and she brought the covers tighter around herself to modestly bury her face in them.

Alastor was so close that she could hear his steady breathing. She was in Alastor's bed.

She was in Alastor's bed.

She…

She was…in his…

…

She bolted upright.

Immediately and frantically, she bunched the covers as best she could to get a good look at them. After that, she unceremoniously tossed them away to a random spot on the bed to now haphazardly inspect the mattress. She continued to push and swish fabric rapidly aside, causing a rather loud fuss in the process.

"You're finally awake! How wonderful!"

Charlie snapped her gaze to Alastor. He was wide awake now, also sitting upright, and wearing an elated smile that reached his ears.

There were many questions that Charlie wanted answers to, many that were much more pertinent than her current sheer confusion. But…

"How did I not burn through the bed?!"

Alastor's smile didn't falter as he calmly tilted his head slightly at her. "That's what you're worried about, my dear? Not at all about the fact that you've been pretty much comatose for the better part of the day."

"No, no, no," she shook her quickly, taking her attention off him to continue gripping and pulling at the linens. "You don't get it. My own bed is flame resistant. W-when this happens I don't use any other place to rest because I could set things on fire. Oh my god!" She groaned as she pressed her palms against her eyes in embarrassment. "I am so sorry if I burned anything."

She heard Alastor chuckle. She also heard him shuffling around, but then he stopped. Then, the shuffling was slower, almost careful for some reason. That's when she felt fingers gently, almost cautiously, wrapping around her wrists.

When Alastor took her hands away and was able to see her face, he dropped his own hands at once. Alarmed for a second, Charlie thought her skin must still be hot enough to burn. But she could see that he wore an amused expression, with no evidence of pain. "Have you found any burn marks," he asked.

"N-no," she muttered.

"Then you've nothing to worry about! And besides, do you honestly think I'd be foolish enough to let your burn down your own hotel?" He laughed. "You wound me, my dear."

Charlie's brows scrunched. "So, you used your magic to…treat the bed, I take it?"

"Yes." He nodded proudly. "While we're being honest, some scorch marks had formed." He laughed again when she adorably flopped onto her side and shielded her face with her hair. "But I had taken care of those as well, just as I'll do the same with the ones in the hallway. Provided Niffty hasn't already gotten on that, but I think she's busy with some sort of broken glass situation."

Charlie groaned, curling up tighter. "I hate my powers," she mumbled against her hair.

She heard Alastor hum. "I suppose that's fair, given that they seem to be doing you no favors. I have to ask, though. Why does this happen?"

"I dunno...My mmm ought-"

He chuckled and she felt those fingers return. Her blush came back again when his hands brushed over her face, tucking her hair over her ears and shoulders. This action was a little bit clumsy, as if he wasn't quite sure what to do with his hands to begin with. Once they could see each other's faces, he instantly took his hands away. It was the exact same way he reacted before. Quick, as if it never happened.

Still wearing an amused smile, he said, "I couldn't hear a word of that."

She sighed. "My dad always thought it was because of me having an abnormal bloodline. Demons and angels were never meant to procreate. Dad's a fallen angel, but still. And then he and mom made me and, well, they kinda never expected to have me." She grimaced. "Sorry. Off-topic," she mumbled. "Anyway, it's not so much that I don't have control over my powers, it's just how I feel afterwards. Lethargic, exhausted, sometimes dizzy, sometimes passing out."

"Why even use them at all if they affect you so?"

"Didn't have much of a choice this time," she said with a shrug. "Steel and Baxter started one of a hell of a fight and I needed them to stop somehow."

Alastor dubiously quirked an eyebrow. "My dear, I couldn't possibly see you using your powers to create violence. And you mean to tell me you used them against those two imbeciles?"

"Not against them, really," she explained. "Just to stop them, separate them from each other for at least a minute to be able to talk them down. That was what all that broken glass was about. It started it all."

Alastor stared at her for a long second, a perplexed smile on his face. "And that worked? Using something as destructive as fire to stop them without hurting them?"

"This time it did," she muttered.

She remembered when she had fought Katie Killjoy. She had tried her absolute damnedest to make sure she didn't use her powers or even change into her demonic form for that matter, opting for a fist-fight instead. However, Tom Trench had tried to help Killjoy at some point, outnumbering Charlie. She'd simply wanted to use her fire to block his path. But then Killjoy pushed him right into it, setting him ablaze.

She got out of her reverie when she heard Alastor. He emitted something of a confusing mix between a sigh, scoff, and a chuckle as he leaned his back against the headboard. He had an odd expression that Charlie couldn't make sense of.

His voice was low, talking to himself, as if she wasn't in the room. "You never cease to…" he trailed off, staring at a random spot on the wall. Charlie opened her mouth to ask him what was on his mind, but he snapped his gaze to her. "And how about to prevent it?"

Charlie, now pretty much used to his random changes in tone and topic in conversation for the most part, asked, "The fight, you mean?"

He shook his head. "Your powers. How do you stop them from affecting you in such a way?"

"Oh. Uh…I _don't_ , I guess? The best thing for me to do is to just use them sparingly. And if and when I do end up like this, I just have to sleep it off. Like always. There's nothing really _to_ do."

He hummed thoughtfully, staring at the wall again. Then, his eyebrows scrunched together, disapprovingly. "I don't like that."

Charlie frowned. "What?"

He faced her again, a muddled scowl mixing with his smile. "You – No, I mean," he said in oddly frustrated tone. "When you're…" He paused to vaguely gesture to her, to the spot where she had previously been sleeping, then back to her.

Charlie just stared at him. She had to admit that even though she didn't understand at all what he was getting at, she was extremely fascinated. When had she ever seen Alastor struggle for words? She couldn't help but smile endearingly at that. Upon seeing her confusion, Alastor's scowl only deepened as he dropped the matter with a huff.

"Maybe…try again," she encouraged lightly.

He only shook his head stiffly. He sighed and straightened up a little. "Very well, then. What do I need to do if this happens again? Surely just letting you rest and writhe in agony can't be the solution."

She shrugged a little, nonchalantly. "It's not really agony. It's just…a lot of exhaustion and being disoriented. Sometimes it's uncomfortable, like it was this time, but not always. And, really, you don't need to do anything. I just need to be able to rest somewhere where things won't get caught on fire."

"Like your bedroom."

She nodded. "And here, too, apparently," she said, plucking at some imaginary dust on the mattress. She paused doing that to glance at the blankets that she had tossed towards to the foot of the bed. "How did you know I needed to rest and…How did I end up here anyway?"

"Your former lover explained some of it to me, though I could tell she wasn't exactly up for sharing much. But she did tell me what needed to be done for you, and I did exactly that."

Charlie raised a brow. "So…You actually did bring me here? As in carried me?"

He laughed. "My dear, how else did you think you got here?"

She shook her head, stunned. "You carried me," she repeated. "How did I not burn you?"

"Hmm," he mused. "Still not quite sure about that one. I entertained the theory that it had something to do with my involvement with voodoo. Many witch doctors out there have more…gentler practices, summoning the energy of the elements to aid in their work, one of which being fire. However, I didn't often utilize that, opting for blacker magic instead."

"Um," she muttered after a moment. "But…Why bring me here? You could've easily have just left me in my room."

"As in leaving you by yourself?" He rolled his eyes. "You wound me once again."

"Okay," she gave a short sigh, seeing that he was dancing around the subject a little. "But why bring me to your room, though?"

He paused a little, probably not expecting her to ask again with a little more insistency. He cleared his throat, and looked away from her. If Charlie didn't know any better, it almost looked like he was embarrassed by something.

"Truth be told, I'm not quite sure. I remember my first thought being to take you somewhere you'd feel less vulnerable, and then my next thought being that my room is naturally laced with a lot of my magic. It seemed only fitting to have you rest in here." The scowl returned. "It made sense to me at the time."

A smile spread on Charlie's face. "You thought I'd feel safe in here."

He cleared his throat again, a little louder, as he leaned back against the headboard while twitching a shoulder in an awkward shrug. "I-Yes, I suppose so."

Once again, her traitorous blush made an appearance. This time, instead of turning away or using her hands to hide her cheeks, she only smiled wider. "Thank you," she said. "Because it worked."

He instantly looked at her. "It did? I mean, yes! Yes, it seemed to, given how you reacted."

"It was so crazy," she breathed. "When I'm unconscious like that, I feel like I have no control over anything. I…can't remember much, but I remember feeling your bed, and maybe even hearing your background static, I think. And I just…felt like I had more control of it all."

He nodded once. "That's…Yes, that's good. I'm glad," he finished, a genuine smile spreading across his face.

The blush stayed on her cheeks, especially as she said, "I've missed you."

His smile and his entire body froze, and Charlie thought she'd said something wrong there for a second. But then his smile widened into something that looked like pure unadulterated joy, and he opened his mouth, as if ready to say something very important. However, his mouth snapped shut and he straightened his back, looking flustered all of a sudden. And then he composed himself by belting out his usual mischievous laugh.

Charlie blinked, feeling incredibly whiplashed. Just when she thought she was getting a handle on his ever-changing moods…

"And wherever have I been, my dear," he jested. "I haven't left the Hotel since joining!"

"No," she sighed. "But I haven't seen much of you lately. It's like you've been, I don't know, deliberately distant. I mean, you can be as distant as you wanna be, you definitely shouldn't feel obligated to-"

"And you didn't like that."

She paused at his interruption. He was looking at her with an expression that she couldn't quite describe. It sort of looked like he was contemplating something while still keeping all of his focus on her.

She sighed. "No. You're my friend, and…" As she spoke, she started looking away from him, trying to find the right words. "And you mean so much to me now. And I felt like I had done something wrong. Like I wasn't doing enough or-"

She stopped when she felt familiar fingers pressing against the side of her jaw. Without resisting whatsoever, she allowed those fingers to guide her face.

Her breath caught in her throat, the blush coming back full force as she stared directly into Alastor's red eyes.

He was inches away from her, so close that his breath drifted across her face. He was staring directly into her eyes, searching for something in them. Then, he tilted his head. "You're blaming this on yourself." He shook his head and chuckled oddly. "My dear, the fault is all mine in this regard. I merely thought you'd want space after your spat with your former lover. So space is what I gave you."

She frowned slightly. "Um…Thank you, I guess. That was really considerate of you." She paused, half-expecting him to make a sarcastic remark at that kind of compliment, but all he did was continue to stare at her, waiting for her to go on. "But I guess I'm so used to your, well, company that it felt weird not seeing you that often."

He hummed thoughtfully at this. His fingers were still beneath her chin, with the back of his thumb idly tracing her jaw line. He was still searching for something in her eyes.

He suddenly grimaced uncomfortably a little. His face was very close of course, but he was leaning his upper body forward to do so.

Her eyes widened when he decidedly shifted the rest of himself closer to her. In all honesty, this wasn't much of a change given that the close proximity remained pretty much the same, but this allowed him to relax some. Also, their bodies were now so close that if either of them moved their legs would be brushing. His thumb continued to stroke her jaw as he turned his hand a little to cup the side of her face.

His smile widened. "I've missed you as well, my dearest."

Charlie sighed happily. "I've missed you, too. Uh...Wait, I've said that already."

He chuckled. He was wearing that soft smile that she hadn't seen in weeks, the smile that only seemed to be reserved for her.

"Just," she murmured, feeling light. She was also feeling a tad giddy for some reason, especially when she realized she at some point had placed her hand over his, keeping it to her face. She couldn't believe he was allowing prolonged contact like this, and that he didn't seem to mind whatsoever. "Just, please," she continued. "No more distance? I mean," she suddenly shook her head, her smile fading. "I actually can't…That's not fair of me to ask of you…"

As she tripped over her words, she tried to tilt her head away, but Alastor kept a hold of her face. He shifted closer to keep her gaze, his knee brushing hers for a brief second. Charlie immediately stopped her stuttering.

"Yes," he agreed, in a voice that sounded laced with relief for some reason. "No more distance."

He was impossibly closer to her, so much so that their foreheads were almost touching. His thumb had moved away from her jaw and was now stroking over the curve of her cheek. His eyes drifted over her face, and he opened his mouth, probably to say something. But then, his thumb moved back under jaw, with purpose.

Charlie swallowed, her blush even stronger now as she allowed him to tilt her face even closer to his. Her heart was thumping rapidly in her chest.

Then, his smile changed into something just a little more reserved.

His movements weren't rushed and he didn't seem panicked, but he still shifted away from her. Not too far though, just enough to lean his back against the headboard once again while still having enough reach to hold her face. Charlie's shoulders sagged a little, feeling both disoriented and heavily disappointed.

"I'm glad that's settled, then," he commented with a content smile. "Now, I should probably let you get back to sleep. It is now…" He glanced away from her to briefly look at his clock on the nightstand. "after three in the morning."

Her head was still swimming from what she thought had almost been on the verge of happening. But her eyes still widened at that information. "Th-three in the morning," she exhaled. "How long was out?"

"Just short of ten hours, I'd say."

She chuckled slightly, almost a scoff. "I'd be very surprised if I could get back to sleep."

"Perhaps," he smirked as he grabbed a book that was sitting next to the clock. "But I highly doubt there's much else for you to do. You're not as much of a night person as I am." He gave her one more smile, smoothly dropped his hand from her face, and opened up his book.

She only hummed vaguely in response to that. She looked away from him to look down at the mattress, and then at the covers still crumpled in a heap at the foot of the bed where she'd tossed them.

"And…" She began to ask. "You're okay with me…sleeping here?"

He let out a laugh. "I thought that was implied." Not looking up from his book, he leaned away from the headboard. With how long his limbs were, he effortlessly reached towards the foot of the bed, grabbed the comforter, and lifted it sort of awkwardly towards Charlie. Which it kind of had to be awkward. The covers were king-sized, fairly heavy, and he was lifting almost all of it with one hand.

Chuckling a little, she took the covers from him, tucked them around herself, and shimmied to lie back down. When she looked back up at him, he was once again against the headboard, still reading, as if he'd never moved at all.

For a few minutes, she tossed and turned lazily, trying to find the most comfortable position. Her mind was still reeling. She still wasn't over the fact that she was literally sharing a bed with Alastor. And she didn't think she'd ever get over what had almost just happened between them.

The way he spoke, how soft his smile was, the way he leaned in…

Charlie shook her head immediately, trying not to read too far into it. Alastor had no regard for personal space. She shouldn't have been surprised or affected at all by how close their proximity had been.

But she _had_ been affected by it, so much so that she had been more than ready to respond to something she didn't know she'd wanted from him.

She finally picked a comfortable position, one that was disappointingly facing away from him, and tried to settle.

She had wanted Alastor to kiss her.


	18. No Rush

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Mothling** , I loved that drawing. It was so cute and it made me chuckle.

Charlie definitely couldn't get to sleep.

Not now. Not after that insane realization.

On the one hand, she was losing her mind. Holy hell, did she not know what to do! When did this happen? How did this happen? When did she suddenly start to have feelings for him?

On the other hand, she shouldn't feel surprised at all.

Over the last couple months, she and Alastor had only continued to become closer and closer. They ate meals together, swapped stories, occasionally bantered, and had even shared a dance. He had seen her sorrow and pain, and she had seen his subtle vulnerability in those instances. They'd made each other smile and laugh.

But…Speaking honestly, how was she to know whether this was all in her head or not? How was she to know whether Alastor even felt the same way?

Why would he? He saw everyone as beneath him, never respecting or treating anyone as his equal. And even if he seemed to respect her and even if he did seem to see her as an equal, that didn't automatically mean romantic intentions. Still…

The moments they'd shared, and the moment they'd had just now, sitting on his bed, close enough to…

Well. It certainly seemed that he…

Charlie frowned deeply, pressing the side of her face against his pillow and almost greedily inhaling his scent.

She couldn't say for certain whether Alastor liked her like that. And in all honesty, it might not be best to even ask. Charlie had a horrible habit of over-thinking things, especially where other people were concerned. With her realization in regards to Alastor, it reminded her of a topic she hadn't thought of in quite some time.

Their deal.

Alastor was such a selfish and chaotic being, and she didn't want to kid herself into thinking that he was staying here just for her. He wanted entertainment, and now he was slowly getting it given that they now had new residents.

 _She_ couldn't be selfish, though. She cared far too much about him at this point. She should've brought up their deal a long time ago. She should've as soon as she'd been disowned.

_'As Princess of Hell and heir to the throne, I hereby order that you help with this hotel, for as long as you desire. Sound fair?'_

Their deal had been null and void for months now. She cringed. Why hadn't she brought it up to him yet? How could she have been so selfish?

Tensely, she swiped away a stray tear and slowly turned to face him. "H-hey, Al?" 

He was still sitting up and reading, not looking the least bit tired. She did a quick glance at the clock and she almost gasped. It now read five-thirty-five in the morning.

At hearing her groggy voice, he put a marker in his book and placed it on his lap. "Yes, my dearest," he asked, giving her a wide grin.

Charlie flinched. There was that word again. 'Dearest'. She loved it. She loved hearing that word _so_ much.

She felt a lump forming in her throat. She tried to swallow the guilt as she moved to sit up. "Um…" But she trailed off, as she now had the large blanket around her to contend with. It was so big and bulky, and she had managed to wrap it around herself rather tightly at some point.

She heard Alastor chuckle at watching her struggle to untangle herself from it. She expected him to be amused by that, but what she did not expect was for him to set his book aside, and then to slide downward, until he too was lying on his side facing her.

"Now," he said, with a residual chuckle in his voice. "What is it?"

"Um," she repeated, a blush spreading on her cheeks for quite possibly the hundredth time this night. He was once again very close to her, almost the same proximity as before. Charlie's mouth moved up and down, trying to find the right words to start with, trying to find the correct way to set things right.

"My parents disowned me," she blurted out. She managed to free one of her hands to slap it to her face in embarrassment. _Well, that's one way to make myself look like an idiot in front of my new love interest._

A confused smile stretched Alastor's face. "Last I checked, this was still so," he replied slowly, as if speaking to someone who was slow on the uptake. "Or am I missing something here?"

"No," Charlie grumbled in frustration. "I-I mean…" She twirled her hand in a vague, fidgety gesture, as if to encourage herself to keep going while miraculously making sense at the same damn time. Oh, what a feat that'd be, if she could only accomplish it. "Well, it's just…I'm no longer a princess. And, well, we made our deal while I _was_ a princess."

He tilted his head. "Our deal?"

"Yeah," she nodded. "When you first arrived at the Hotel."

"Oh," he said. He suddenly laughed loudly. "Quite honestly, I forgot all about that. Why, would you look at that! Me, forgetting a deal! First time for everything, no?" He laughed again. "But, yes, what about it?"

By this point, his fingers had found her jaw again. His touch felt so gentle, so nice. She bit her lip hard, and she unwillingly leaned back slightly. Though not completely away from his touch, otherwise she would've fallen off the bed.

At once, he took his hand off her skin, letting it hang questioningly in the air next to her head. His movements, his facial expression, his smile…Everything about him had completely frozen up.

Charlie blinked at this sudden change. It took her a moment, but she realized that Alastor had no idea what to do next, much less how to respond to that. For some reason, her moving back ever-so-slightly thoroughly blind-sided him.

And not in an arrogant why-won't-you-let-me-touch-you kind of way, but more like… He looked extremely confused, and very disheartened, as if he now assumed that this simple gesture on his part was him going too far. He…almost appeared guilty.

Charlie bit her lip so hard she knew a bruise would show up later. She glanced at his hand still hovering stiffly in the air. She debated on whether to bring that hand back to her face, to show him that he most definitely hadn't crossed a line, but she had to tell him what was on her mind. She had to get to the point so she could give him that choice.

Charlie closed her eyes. "I'm no longer a princess of Hell. O-our deal is…no longer valid anymore. There's nothing keeping you here anymore."

She exhaled shakily, and began rambling. "B-because let's be real here, I mean, we have a few more sinners here now, bu-but no one really expects this idea to work. And even if I think it will, even if we do have more sinners, there's nothing really chaotic about this place or anything, and that's what you like, and, uh…" She trailed off when she realized he had yet to say anything.

Slowly, she opened her eyes. He had taken his hand completely away at some point, but he was no longer as tense as before. He stared at her with that soft smile. "I see," he said. "All very simple, then, yes?"

"Uh-"

"My dear, I may be a deal-maker and I'm very dedicated to holding up my end of any bargain, but if I'm ever faced with a deal that I no longer wish to be a part of, you can bet anything that I'd figure a way out of it." His hand twitched, but it didn't leave its position where it now lay on the bed. "Perhaps our deal wasn't even a deal to begin with. That's all a matter of opinion, I suppose. But in any case, I have no desire to leave."

Charlie felt her breath catching hopefully. "Y-You don't?"

"Goodness, no," he laughed. "Husker and Niffty are still under my command, my shadows still guard your hotel, and we now have new residents. My job is the same as before, to help with this hotel, and to watch these miserable sinners desperately cling to the hope of redemption."

She chuckled emptily. She was ridiculously happy he was still intent on staying, but she still wasn't quite smiling. He wanted to stay for the Hotel's sake and to get entertainment out of it. No other reason. Yeah… She had definitely read too far into things. Of course he didn't have any romantic intentions. After all, this _was_ Alastor they were talking about here. "So, you haven't been too bored or anything? Th-That's good to know."

"You think I've been bored? Around you?" He laughed. "My dearest, how such a thought has occurred to you is beyond me! Did I ever give any indication, even once, that I found you to be boring?"

Charlie blinked. "I-I was referring to the Hotel."

"Hmm," he hummed vaguely. "I wasn't. Though, I admittedly don't find your hotel as boring as it should be for me, no, I was not referring to that. I was referring to you."

His statement was definitely a little awkward by his standards, and it took Charlie a moment to process it. When she did, her blush came back, and she looked away to try and hide how giddy she was slowly beginning to feel. As she looked away, his hand came into her view. It twitched towards her again, but it ultimately didn't leave its position on the mattress. 

Charlie flexed her jaw, thinking carefully about this next move.

She took her time, slowly sliding her hand across the bed, until she could gently take his. He flinched sharply when she touched him, so much so that he lifted his hand straight into the air again. Charlie flinched as well, not really knowing how to respond to that. She could feel his eyes on her. Many seconds passed by, and she was about to look at his face to better understand his reaction. However, Alastor finally moved, hesitantly placing his fingertips over her knuckles.

He waited.

Charlie gently took his hand. As much as she simply wanted to hold it in hers, to tangle her fingers through his own, she instead placed his palm against her jaw where he'd originally had it. He immediately cupped her face again, and his thumb resumed its stroking.

She finally looked at his face. She was expecting him to have frozen up again, or to even be grimacing at her boldness. Instead, he was looking at her with that wonderfully soft smile, but there was something else tied in with it. The corners of his eyes were very relaxed, almost relieved.

She smiled back at him, and she felt herself finally relax some as well.

He briefly paused his stroking to push some of her hair away from her face, which meant that it probably got a little disheveled during her uncertain rambling. "I do hope all of what I said put your mind at ease," he said.

"It did, yeah," she murmured. They were lying so close to one another, to a point where there was barely any distance left to close. "…It really did."

Charlie leaned forward and pressed her lips against Alastor's.

It was only meant to be a small kiss, not lasting long at all. She was already slowly pulling back, but she hastened when she realized Alastor had not even reacted in the slightest.

Well, actually, he was reacting.

His eyes were the widest she'd ever seen them, and the small smile on his lips conveyed complete and total shock. His hand was still against her face, but it trembled immensely. And, for the first time that night, his background noises were much more prominent. Radio static droned around them, rapidly fading in and out, as if someone was struggling to find the right frequency.

Charlie waited many seconds for him to respond, to give him as much time as he needed to process it. She knew that if the situation was reversed, she'd probably be reacting similarly. However, as seconds turned into minutes, and as those minutes went into the double-digits, and as he continued to have no further reaction whatsoever…She felt her heart beginning to sink into her stomach.

She…She'd misread him after all. _Clearly_ , she'd misread him.

She stammered, quickly trying to find the words for a proper apology. "I-I-Well-I-Just. Uh…That was…I thought…Well, I mean, obviously, I thought wrong," she managed to get out as she placed her hand over his, which was still trembling against her face. "I-I crossed a line, and I'm sorry. W-we can pretend that that never even…" A tear slipped down her cheek as she stroked her thumb over his knuckles. She wanted to look away from him, but she couldn't. "And y-you can let go of my face. I-It's fine."

The moment she tried to gently pry his hand away, the radio static ceased.

He finally moved.

His thumb drifted across her face until it was resting against her lips. Charlie immediately stilled. Alastor's eyes were still as wide as they could be, and his smile hadn't shifted, but he did start speaking.

"I…Yes," he muttered. "Hmm…" Charlie could see that his eyes were finally moving as well, as if looking for something, but not looking directly at her. He muttered a few other things that Charlie couldn't quite make out, and she could see just how thoroughly distracted he was, so much so that she wouldn't be surprised if he hadn't heard her disjointed apology at all.

With his thumb still over her lips, she opened her mouth a little to try again, to make sure he'd heard her, but he spoke again. "Yes," he nodded once. "That will take some getting used to. Most definitely." On that note, his wide eyes relaxed, as did his smile.

"Uh," Charlie stammered a little.

His thumb fell away and his hand left her cheek, gliding through her hair to the back of her neck. Charlie's heart hammered in her chest, expecting him to lean in for his own kiss. He was looking at her lips, and her eyes, too. His gaze kept drifting between them. Instead of a kiss, though, he cautiously pressed his hand against her until their foreheads slowly bumped together.

Her relief was palpable. As soon as Charlie felt this new kind of touch from him, her shoulders sagged and a breathless chuckle escaped her as she smiled brightly at him.

He was smiling at her as well. It was wide, and still held notes of bewilderment, but it was a happy one nonetheless. "You feel the same way," he sighed, his voice also breathless.

" _You_ feel the same way," she chuckled again. "I…I thought I'd…"

He hummed to encourage her to continue.

"W-well," she said. "When I kissed you…"

"Ah, yes, that. I suppose I didn't respond properly to that, did I?"

Charlie instantly shook her head. "No! No, you responded fine. No, it's not that. I thought I'd…really done something you didn't like."

His hand had now returned to the side of her face, which seemed to be his preferred position. "It wasn't exactly that," he explained. "You have to understand. No one has ever done that to me before."

Charlie tilted her head. "You mean kissing?"

He nodded.

Her eyes widened a little. "Oh," she said. "Did you…not like it?"

He shook his head. "Also not that. I just don't yet know what to do in that circumstance." He paused, a flash of thoughtfulness in his eyes. "But, here, let me try again."

Charlie squeaked, a surprised sound in the back of her throat that was quickly smothered as his lips crashed against hers.

It was abrupt, with one of his sharp teeth nearly nicking her in the process. His movements weren't rushed or even overly passionate for that matter. However, there was a lot of uncertainty. His lips shifted clumsily against hers, as if unsure of how or where to even place them.

It was a little harsh, but not forceful. The hand on her face was still as gentle as ever, not manipulating her, not deepening the kiss, not even holding her in place. This kiss wasn't him trying to push any limits.

This was simply him trying.

This was a completely new experience for him.

It was now Charlie's turn to freeze up. Only two hours ago she was completely ready for him to kiss her. Now, she couldn't even believe that it was happening, and it took her completely by surprise. It also shamefully took her too long to respond.

His kiss only lasted a few seconds. By the time she had gotten out of her stupor, by the time she could actually respond to him, he was already pulling back with a breathless gasp.

For a long second, he wore a wide, elated smile at having just done that. Then, upon seeing Charlie's disoriented expression, his smile faltered and a half-cringe mingled with it. "Not quite, I take it," he asked carefully.

Charlie nibbled her bottom lip contemplatively, not wanting to discourage him or say the wrong thing. However, when she came up short on words, she took a leaf from his book and opted for honesty. "No," she sighed. "Not really. It…was a little rough."

His cringe sharpened, nearly overtaking his smile. His hand caressed her neck again, connecting their foreheads once more. "Forgive me for that, my dearest," he sighed, sounding thoroughly frustrated with himself. "As I've said, this will take some getting used to on my part."

"That's okay," Charlie smiled. "We…We can figure it out together."

He raised a brow. "As in…?"

Charlie paused, because now it was a matter of making sure he didn't feel insulted. "Well…If I'm your first kiss, then…Well, it's not fair of me – of either of us – to expect you…to…"

His brow remained raised.

"Because, if you've never gotten a chance to, um, practice… _it_?" She stopped her suggestion. "Ugh, I'm sorry. None of that made sense at all," she groaned, closing her eyes. "A-and besides, we don't have to do any kissing right now. We-"

"I want to," he interrupted calmly. "I enjoyed it."

Charlie looked at him. "Huh?"

"I enjoyed it," he repeated with a nod. "Kissing. Especially when you were the one to initiate it."

"Oh." She blinked, and then smiled. "Th-that's good!"

He chuckled at her. "Oh, believe me. You would be the first to know if something was done that I didn't like." He brushed his thumb over her lips again. "You felt nice," he murmured. Then, he cringed again. "But my kiss clearly did not."

"No, but that's okay," she assured. "It's something that…we could figure out together, to make it nice for both of us."

He tilted his head. The cringe was gone, being replaced with something just a little perturbed. "Are you suggesting to help me?"

"Only if you want me to. You just seemed…really disappointed."

He stared into her eyes for many seconds. "It's been many years since I've accepted help from anyone," he said, his voice sounding strangled. "Since I've trusted anyone like that."

After another many seconds passed by, his forehead was no longer against hers. Charlie almost thought he was pulling away altogether. She frowned at the loss, but she understood, knowing that he was probably feeling too frustrated and proud for such a suggestion.

However, Alastor surprised her. He only pulled back slightly, to get a better look at her face while smiling widely. "I shall leave everything up to you, then!"

"Huh," she repeated dumbly.

He began to explain. "When it comes to romance, the only thing I'm familiar with is courting, but I never even partook in that. Romance was not something I pursued, in general."

He briefly lifted his hand from her face in a vague, grandiose wave. "All of this is very foreign to me," he continued. "I don't know what's natural, what's expected, and what are only simple urges."

He placed his hand back on her jaw. He was delighted when she subtly shifted against his palm, involuntarily leaning into his touch. "I'll accept your help," he announced. "Gladly."

Charlie smiled from ear to ear, and her blush was now most likely going to be a permanent fixture on her face. "Okay," she said, voice barely above a whisper. "So," she cleared her throat a little to compose herself. "Do you just…If you want, we can just…take it slow?"

"I…Yes. That'd probably be for the best." His eyes had drifted to her lips, his smile slipping a little.

Noticing that he was still conveying some guilt from his kiss, Charlie searched around to find his other hand, the one not on her face. When she realized it was lying beneath the pillow under his head, she wormed her hand between the linens. When she found his hand, she placed her fingers over his knuckles, but didn't take it or try to move it. Alastor seemed intent on keeping that hand protectively hidden, and while she definitely took a risk by seeking it out, she didn't want to be too insistent.

For a split second, he froze when he felt her touch, and a guarded tension flashed in his eyes. Then, upon realizing that she wasn't interested in doing anything further with it, and because he was slowly beginning to crave her touch, he very quickly relaxed. So quickly that it almost startled him.

"Yeah," Charlie murmured. "We can take it as slow as you want."

Alastor's heart sped up. For some reason, her words were exactly what he wanted to hear. Sighing heavily, he nuzzled his face against her forehead. He wanted to kiss her again, now specifically there, as well as her lips, but not now. His heart was still going at a speed he wasn't used to, and he wanted a breather. Goodness, he needed it. He should at least let go of Charlie to do so, but he couldn't fathom doing that either. Despite how flustered he felt, he also never wanted the feeling to end.

"I appreciate that," he murmured against her skin. "More than you know."

Charlie slowly took her hand away. Alastor's hand moved as well, snaking out from underneath the pillow as if to chase her gentle touch. He leaned back a little to get a better look at her face, wondering why on earth she'd taken her hand away.

"That's good," she smiled. Alastor smiled back, but he was distractedly looking down at her hands, both of which she had tucked demurely against her chest. It was as if she couldn't find anywhere else to put them. Alastor then realized that she must've sensed how overwhelmed he had gotten, and that she was now keeping her hands to herself for his sake.

He grimaced, looking at his other hand that was freely caressing and exploring her face. How absolutely unfair.

Stiffly, but excitedly, his other hand found hers again, wrapping tensely and awkwardly around it. Charlie's reaction was immediate and smooth as she curled her fingers to tighten their hold on each other.

This sensation – just like kissing – was also new to him. He'd never held the hand of another so _delicately_ before. He didn't even realize that word was a part of his own vocabulary. But he liked it. He was overwhelmed by it initially, but now that he had her hand back, he was much more comfortable with it this time. His heart slowed down into a more steady rhythm, allowing him to better process her touches, more than ready to become familiar with her.

For the next while, they lazily took in each other's company. They kept a consistent grip on each other's hands, with Charlie stroking her thumb over his knuckles every now and then. She occasionally tilted her cheek against his other hand that was still cupping her face. 

They took their time studying each other, taking in their subtle physical reactions and facial expressions. In all honesty, there wasn't much to learn quite yet. This was all still new for the both of them and it would be impossible to learn everything about the other in one night. Alastor once again sighed, relieved that Charlie was more than happy to allow him as much time as he needed.

He was happy that she was happy.

Alastor tilted his head at thinking that. How simplistic, sappy, and oddly comforting that thought was to him.

Charlie opened her mouth to break the silence, and also to stifle a yawn at the same time. "You…You said something about courting, and that that's the only thing you know about romance."

He nodded. "Let's use the word 'know' loosely, shall we," he suggested. "As I said, I never partook, never felt the need or desire to court anyone. I only know of what's needed to be done because it was something expected of men during that time. It was a tedious step-by-step process."

"What all goes into it?"

"If you're wondering if I considered courting you, the answer is no," he said, and watched as her expression fell. He quickly explained himself. "Your parents would be a necessary part of the formalities."

"Oh," she muttered bluntly, understanding.

"Also," he continued. "Everything is different now, so modern. By the time I died, courting was already becoming a thing of the past. Dating, casual romance, and such things related are much more common now." He sighed through his nose. "The expectation of romance nowadays – Well, romance in general…I truly am at a loss."

Charlie grinned. "That's why you have me."

He chuckled at her playful smile, but didn't respond to that. He noticed her eyelids had become droopy, barely keeping open. He smirked pointedly at her. "You're trying to keep yourself awake," he accused lightly. "I think you'll find that won't work, though."

"Oh yeah," she raised a brow. "Why's that?"

"Because I won't let you," he stated matter-of-factly. "Go back to sleep, my dearest."

"Can…I kiss you goodnight, then," she asked with a shy smile. Then, her smile faltered into something hesitant. "Only if you want to."

Alastor's eyes widened and he blinked rapidly. "Is it evening once again," he asked, almost in shock. He propped himself up and faced the direction of one of his windows. "Goodness, time is slowing down one minute, then speeding up the next!"

"No, no," Charlie shook her head, placing her hand over his raised fingers. He was probably about to snap them in order to magically push aside the curtains from that distance. She chuckled awkwardly. "I was trying to be funny, I guess. It's still morning." He nodded once at her and shifted to lie down again. "You've been losing track of time?"

Instead of answering that – Goodness, he didn't want to discuss how embarrassing that particular subject was – he simply stroked his thumb over her lips and chose to address her previous question. "That sounds lovely."

Charlie waited for a moment, chewing on her lip. She was waiting to see if Alastor wanted to make the first move, but he didn't. She shifted closer to him, so that there wouldn't be any straining on her part. She wanted this third time to be as relaxed as possible for them. She had to stop because their chests were now pressed against each other, much like how their dance in the living room had ended. There was no more space left between them.

Charlie gave his hand a reassuring squeeze, and she tilted her head forward, brushing her lips against his. Once again, Alastor froze and his hand on her face started to tremble. However, his reaction wasn't as dramatic or as long-lasting. After a long second, he relaxed and slowly pressed his mouth back against hers, this time without the roughness.

Charlie sighed. They worked their mouths together, slowly and meticulously. These kisses were small and light. And even though Charlie could still feel how hesitantly and awkwardly Alastor was moving against her, she wouldn't trade this careful, tender moment for the world. Especially when his hand moved from her cheek to the back of her neck again. He didn't press her closer, though that seemed to be the original intention. Instead, he seemed to decide to just contentedly stroke the skin of her nape.

Eventually, their lungs demanded something other than these loving gestures, and they had to separate. Their chests moved up and down as they took gulps of air, but not rapidly, both taking their time to breathe and to soak this moment in.

Charlie, in her daze, hadn't realized that she had moved one of her hands to his chest. It was placed high on his upper body, almost to his shoulder, as if she had been ready to wind her arm around his neck. As much as she would've liked that, she was happy that hadn't happened, as she didn't know if Alastor would've like that.

Alastor didn't seem to mind the current placement of her hand though, and he certainly didn't seem to mind that kiss. His eyes were half-lidded and he was smiling softly at her. He had begun to lazily comb his fingers through her hair by this point.

"Was that better, dearest," he asked, his voice a murmur.

"Mhm," she responded sleepily and yawned. "Was it good for you?"

"Yes," he breathed. He rested his mouth against her forehead and placed a sound but still-hesitant kiss there. "Absolutely perfect."

"Mhm," she repeated. Indulgently, and _oh so slowly_ , she shifted to rest her face against his chest. "And…What about this?" She cautiously nuzzled her cheek against him to emphasize.

There was an incredibly long pause. Charlie's eyebrows came together worriedly, and she was about to pull away, fearing that being this close would be too much for him for one night.

"More than I can even describe."

His voice was barely above a whisper, and even though the room was quiet, Charlie had to strain in order to hear it. But she definitely heard it, and it instantly put her mind at ease, to a point where she was now ready to fall asleep.

"Good night, my dearest Charlie," he said, and with a hint of humor in his voice. "Or should we say good morning?"

She chuckled against his chest, yawned widely one last time, and fell asleep.

She woke up again before noon. She shifted a little, and she realized that Alastor had adjusted himself a little at some point. There was still one hand cupping the back of her neck. The other hand, though, had released hers, and was now resting over her waist.

She could feel his steady breathing drifting over her hair, and she came to the conclusion that he had also fallen asleep. She closed her eyes and breathed contentedly, inhaling his odd but wonderful scent. She glanced briefly at the clock, and decided to close her eyes again. She normally wasn't one to sleep in, always an early riser, but she was far too content right now. What's a few more hours?

Her eyes fluttered when the hand on her waist twitched. Alastor, still sleeping, exhaled into her hair. His hand moved again, as if ready to wrap around her torso, but remained where it was anyway. Even in his sleep, the prospect of romance still made him hesitant.

Charlie smiled warmly against him. This was fine.

No rush.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * You guys might not see an update for a while. I already have the next few chapters completely typed out, but there are some plot points that I need to address in a future chapter before posting them.
> 
> Also, my wi-fi was glitching while doing the final edits for this chapter. I think it's fine, but I'll reread it a little later and edit anything that might need it. So I apologize.
> 
> Once again, thank you all so much for the support you've given this story. And also, a shout out to my editor. Without him, this story would not be possible.


	19. Just Go From Here

Given that there still weren't that many residents, the Hotel had a very quick and efficient gossip chain.

And the gossip always started with Niffty.

It couldn't be helped.

When not doing general maintenance and upkeep, Charlie and Alastor would often give her specific job duties. However, they rarely ever gave her a schedule, even if something needed to be done pronto. That was one of Niffty's favorite things about working in the Hotel. She could do whatever she needed to, whenever she needed to, and that Alastor and Charlie thoroughly trusted her to get the job done.

Niffty could no longer keep count of how many times she'd been fired from an employer. It was something to do with how creepy she came across. Which was absolute nonsense because she always tried to come across as polite as she could…At first. The more comfortable she got in a particular work environment, the more outspoken and spastic she'd become. This unsettled every one of her previous employers due to her unpredictability. It was downright aggravating for her because all she wanted to do was keep herself busy.

And just like Husk, Niffty should also be downright aggravated that she was indebted to Alastor. At the end of the day, though, she had absolutely no complaints.

At the time, she had only been in Hell for a year or two, and for what felt like the hundredth time, she had just been fired from her most recent job. She was bored, and she just wanted something to do. She didn't want to give up, but it was getting to that point. Alastor, ever the opportunist, approached her and made her a deal. From that point on, she worked for Alastor.

Not once did Alastor ever find her creepy, disturbing, or untrustworthy. And after he'd summoned her to help with the Hotel, everyone else followed suit. Everyone in the Hotel often approached her to let her know of something that needed cleaned or repaired. Charlie and Alastor's orders took priority, but it was nonetheless great that everyone else asked her to do things. For the first time in a very long time, someone other than Alastor trusted her. And not just someone, but the entire Hotel. Niffty couldn't even begin to describe how that felt, what it meant to her.

However, you could not trust Niffty to keep her mouth shut. Nearly everyone in the Hotel didn't have filters in front of their mouths and they did enjoy gossip, but even they knew when something wasn't any of their business.

Niffty did not. She had the gift of gab, and it was unavoidable.

Due to her not having a set schedule, she could work whenever she pleased. So, in her mind, it was only logical that she worked all hours of the day. She'd never had a job where she had complete free rein to do as she liked. Why wouldn't she work every chance she got? This was where her spontaneity came in.

Even though she was now a lot more communicative about where she was cleaning and when, she still often popped up in random places. Most of the time she announced her presence for all to hear, but what was really jarring was how quiet she could be.

Niffty's day always started excessively early, normally at around four or five in the morning, though she sometimes started as early as three. She took breaks as needed throughout the day until it was time for her to call it quits at the end of it. Which was normally around midnight. The only other sinner that could possibly rival all of this was Baxter, who often kept himself up all day and night to tend to his experiments.

Aside from the one time where Baxter told Niffty to keep it down so he could concentrate, she quickly caught on that most of the residents liked to sleep during those particular hours, so she took it upon herself to learn how to be more quiet. She was a lot more assertive now, but she could still be polite when she wanted.

This was frightening, because now you never knew where Niffty was, when she was going to make an appearance, or if she was eavesdropping. She never eavesdropped on purpose, but she kept herself just as busy as Charlie, and as a result was all over the Hotel each and every day. It was unavoidable for her to accidentally hear or stumble upon something, or someone…or someones.

She knew that Alastor had been in love with Charlie for quite some time. Niffty was a hopeless romantic and she saw the signs quicker than Husk did, which was saying something because Husk was far more observant and level-headed than her.

Alastor always wanted to help Charlie, always wanted to be around her, and that first game night – god, Niffty could cut the romantic tension with a knife.

If Charlie was in love with Alastor, Niffty couldn't say at the time. She had been dating Vaggie and if she did like Alastor, she probably just didn't realize it. 

Was Charlie in love with Alastor? Well, after many weeks, this question had an answer.

Niffty, for once, had given herself a break for the day. And by break, that simply meant she was giving herself something else to do. She didn't like how plain that window was on the fifth floor. It was such a shame that Steel had destroyed the original mosaic when he'd broken in, because the apple depiction on that burnt-looking background had been very pretty, if not slightly ominous in Niffty's opinion.

With an old sketchbook she'd found in a storage room, she sat in front of the clear window and started doodling ideas for a different stained glass design. She knew Charlie would probably appreciate it.

By early evening, she decided to put it on pause for the time being, head to dinner, and call it a day. It had been way too long since she'd gone to bed early. She couldn't wait to get more than four hours of sleep. Ooh, maybe she'd get six or seven if she felt like spoiling herself.

It looked like Alastor hadn't prepared any dinner, so everyone was left fend for themselves. Niffty thought it a bit odd given that he also hadn't done breakfast or lunch. Normally, he would make at least one meal for everyone each day. How strange, but Niffty wasn't deterred. She simply raided the kitchen's fridge for some snacks, and took them to her bedroom.

It should've also been strange that no one had seen Charlie all day either, but in this case it wasn't. Everyone knew that Charlie had had some sort of episode in the hallway the night previously. So, that meant she was probably just taking it easy for the next day or so.

Niffty enjoyed being surprised because she sure as hell did not put two and two together.

On her way back to her room, arms greedily filled with snacks, Niffty was about to pass Alastor's room given that she lived only a couple doors down from him.

She stopped in her tracks at the end of the hallway when she saw Alastor and Charlie talking. She was about to turn around and find a different route to her bedroom, until she noticed how close together they were standing. And Alastor's hand...Those sharp claw-like fingers of his were touching the side of Charlie's face with the utmost care.

Niffty's eye widened. Oh…This could be interesting. 

For once, she couldn't help but eavesdrop.

They were pretty far away from where she stood, so she couldn't make out what they were saying. But at some point, Alastor asked Charlie something, causing her to blush and reply. Alastor grinned widely, leaned down, and –

Niffty nearly short-circuited!

He pressed a soft, but fairly hesitant kiss to Charlie's forehead, causing Charlie to blush even harder.

Niffty walked away, smiling from ear-to-ear, and unable to wait to tell someone, _anyone_ , about what she'd just witnessed.

All of the other sinners were gathered in the common area eating their dinners that night when Niffty enthusiastically stampeded towards them. In her excitement, she blurted out everything.

Sanderson raised a brow at her. "Alastor does not care if he invades someone's personal space," he said in response to everything she'd just said.

"Yeah," Vaggie grumbled tensely. "Knowing him, it was probably just his whole gentleman act…Emphasis on 'act'."

"No, no, no," Niffty shook her head as she bounced on her tiny feet. "It is waaaaay more than that. God, they were practically swooning-"

Vaggie snarled and glared daggers at Niffty. "Give it a fucking rest! He just touched her face! That's all he did! God, do you fucking hear yourself?!"

Angel Dust, who'd been sitting right next to Vaggie, flinched and cringed at the scene unfolding in front of him.

"No, no, no," Niffty repeated hastily. "I left out the best part-"

"Uh, look, Niffty," Angel frowned at her. "Whatever you think you saw-"

"Oh, I saw it!" Was Niffty's loud response.

Angel slapped a hand to his face and he did a frantic glance at Vaggie. She wasn't looking at Niffty anymore, or anyone for that matter. She stared down at the uneaten plate of food in her hands, her knuckles white as she gripped the edges of the porcelain.

Angel then tsked, deciding to try for nonchalance. "Eh, don't listen to her, Vags," he shrugged as Niffty continued to ramble. "She can't keep her mouth shut. God knows what's actually true or not. You know how she-"

"And then he kissed her!"

There was a crash, as Vaggie's plate lifelessly hit the floor.

"Jesus Christ, Niffty," Angel hollered angrily at her.

Niffty snapped her gaze to him to ask what his problem was, and then she saw that Vaggie was still staring at the destroyed remains of her dinner. Her long hair covered her face, so no one could see her expression, but they could all feel it.

"Oh," Niffty squeaked quietly. "Um…But don't worry, Vaggie! It-it was just a kiss on the forehead! Not the lips! Well, I mean, it could've been. Maybe they have kissed. If they're dating – they clearly are dating, and if they – Uh, no, wait! Come back! I – That was, um…"

But Vaggie had already left the common area. Silently. Without a word.

"I was…" Niffty tried as she glanced at everyone guiltily. "starting to apologize."

Angel exhaled harshly as he stood up, uncaringly letting his empty bowl crash to the floor next to Vaggie's plate. "Yeah, well, you didn't fucking succeed," he snapped at her. He walked away in Vaggie's direction. During that night in the hallway when Alastor had carried Charlie away, Angel had tracked Vaggie down to make sure she vented to him. This night would be no different. They weren’t exactly what you would call 'friends' quite yet, but they had mutual trust now.

Later that week, Niffty did get a chance to apologize. Vaggie responded to this with a blank face, a curt head nod, and walked away. Vaggie mostly did her own thing now, practically avoiding everyone every chance she got.

Needless to say, everyone in the Hotel now knew that Charlie was dating the Radio Demon. Husk hadn't even been in the common area at the time, but he heard through a drunken Angel Dust sitting at his bar a couple days ago all he needed to know, even if he was smart enough to draw conclusions on his own over time.

Husk wasn't the least bit surprised Alastor had confessed his feelings to Charlie. When Alastor wanted something, nothing stopped him. However, he was surprised with how long it took, with how much patience and respect Alastor had displayed during the mean time. Husk had no doubt that Alastor probably would've kept a professional distance until the end of time if it meant Charlie's happiness.

Husk and Charlie were both currently in the entryway. While Charlie was setting a cardboard box on the floor, Husk was maintaining the concierge desk.

After he had finally cleaned every nook and cranny, and after using his mineral oil to wipe down all of the wooden surfaces, he was now busy organizing it. He was currently trying to get an old computer to start up. Technology wasn't exactly his forte, but he had orders to maintain the concierge desk.

He grumbled irately as the computer tried and failed to start up again. Rolling his eyes, he placed his hand on the countertop to reach for some beer, only to remember that he wasn't at his bar, and that he hadn't taken any alcohol with him to the desk. He glanced at his bar, which was only several feet away, and he was about to go grab some when the computer made a positive-sounding chirping start-up noise.

"You gonna wake up yet, you stupid thing," Husk griped at it. And actually, it did. After it was done loading, the home screen appeared. "Fucking finally. So, uh, what do I gotta do next," he asked Charlie.

"Now, nothing," she said as she got out a few small picture frames from the box in front of her. "I'm still trying to figure out what the best use of it is going to be. I want a database of all of our residents and their progress in the Hotel, but there are too many demons out there that know how to hack a computer so I don't want to risk anyone's personal info until I have that figured out, so…Yeah. Not sure yet." She briefly looked up at him. "But thank you for keeping an eye on that while it started up."

"Psh," he huffed as he got out from behind the counter and walked over to her. "No problem. It only took like, what, thirty minutes of my time? Yeah, easy-peasy and not at all aggravating."

Charlie grinned at him. "You didn't have to sit in front of it, you know."

He shrugged. "Yeah, well, nothing better to do. And it's supposed my job and all that shit." He crossed his arms as he watched her take apart a picture frame and set a photo inside. He scoffed. "Really? The pig?"

Charlie smiled down at the picture of Fat Nuggets now resting in the center of the wooden frame. "Yeah, why not?"

Husk raised a brow. "Why not what?"

Charlie got to her feet and started walking around, inspecting the walls. "Now that we have all this wall space, I still want us to use it for pictures. And I figured, hey! Why not let everyone choose what pictures they wanna put up?" She placed the picture of Fat Nuggets on the wall. "It's everyone's home," she said quietly. "Not just mine." She turned to smile at Husk. "What do you think?"

Husk flexed his jaw, wanting to say something at least decently poignant. He pointed to the picture. "The pig is a weird first choice, don'tcha think?" _Yeah_ , he thought to himself. _Real poignant, you jackass._

Charlie only shrugged at that. "Maybe, but Angel wanted it up. And like I said, these walls are supposed to be for everyone now," she said as she glanced around the entryway.

He scoffed again as he turned towards his bar. "Yeah, well, don't let Angel get too crazy. Knowing him, he'll just put dick pics everywhere. And not actual ones, no, he'll draw 'em by hand directly on the walls like an immature high schooler."

Charlie chuckled. "Oh, I'm sure he won't." She reorganized the box, picked it up, and took it over to Husk's bar. She placed the box on the floor and hopped up on the stool. "And besides, even if he did, I could just ask if Alastor could make the drawings disappear."

Husk smirked knowingly at her. Clearing his throat, he asked, "The usual?"

"Yes, please," she smiled politely.

Husk knelt down to his mini-fridge. He got out two bottles of non-alcoholic apple cider and placed them on the counter. He poured one of the bottles into a wine glass and passed it to her.

"That's a new brand I found," he said. "Supposed to be sweeter, less bitter than what you usually drink. Let me know what you think."

Curious, Charlie took a whiff of it, took a sip, swirled some of it in her mouth, and drank it as she smiled. "That's really good," she said, and she took a longer sip. "I think I'm gonna have this more often."

Husk nodded once and took the other bottle away. He was tempted to bring out some beer for himself, but he was too curious about something.

"So, uh," he began, trying and failing to hide his smirk. "You look like you been smiling a lot."

"Oh, uh," she stammered, tucking her hair self-consciously behind her ear. "I…If you say so."

Husk finally let the smirk come back, unable to help himself. "Yeah, I do say so! Sounds like you and Alastor are a thing now."

Charlie almost choked on her cider. With wide eyes, she swallowed and coughed while Husk snickered a little. "You know," she asked incredulously.

"Do I? The entire fucking Hotel knows." He paused to take in her sheer surprise. "Niffty gets around."

Charlie groaned, placed her elbows on the counter, and buried her face in her hands. "Okay," she gave a muffled sigh as she looked up at him. "I mean, it's not like it was gonna be a secret or anything, but…it still would've been nice to be able to you all on our own terms."

"Yeah, Niffty lives here. You don't get that choice."

Charlie rubbed her temple. "I guess."

"So," Husk said. "All that smiling you're doing…I take it everything's going good? You know, with you and Alastor?"

As expected, a smile appeared on her face again. "Yeah," she sighed. "It's really…I'm really happy. I mean, it's only been a few days, but still. He's…yeah," she sighed again, this time the smile slipping.

Husk's brows scrunched. "Nah, come on. Can't be trouble in paradise already."

Charlie shook her head. "No, no trouble. At all, really. He's…Husk, I had no idea how…gentle and considerate he could be. Well, actually, that's not really true. I did know, because he's been like this with me for a while now and…Ugh, I'm an idiot for not seeing it sooner."

Husk half-smiled at her and shook his head. "Nah, you ain't an idiot. You were dating Vaggie. Why would you look someone else's way when you were with her?"

After a second, Charlie nodded. "Yeah, you're right. That makes sense."

"So what's eating at you, then?"

"I guess I just never expected us to…happen. Not in my wildest dreams." Husk poured her another glass as she continued. "Because aside from the fact that I didn't think I'd be his type, I didn't think that he would be mine." She paused to cringe. "Wow, that sounded way less awful in my head. Um, what I mean is, and I'm not judging him, I'm the one who was born in Hell so who am I to judge, but…"

Husk nodded knowingly. "He's done some bad shit. Yeah, believe me," his voice dropped to a bitter murmur. "I know."

Charlie nodded as well. "I know he was a serial killer when he was alive. I should be terrified of even being near him, but I'm not for some reason. I don't know why I'm not afraid of him like everyone else is. Should I be?"

Husk looked thoughtful before he spoke. "As professional as Alastor is, you'd know right away if he didn't like you, or if he threatened you. Did he ever do anything like that to you?"

"No," Charlie immediately said. "Not once. He's been…nothing but nice to me. And everyone else, too. Well…Not as nice. He still insults everyone sometimes, but…I don't think he's threatened anyone here. Not recently. Not that I can remember."

"So what are you worried about then," he asked.

This made Charlie look up from her glass to stare at Husk. "I…I don't know. I've dated plenty of others over the centuries that have had histories just as bad as Alastor's. Hell, I was even trapped in a really bad relationship for a time. And I admit, Al isn't a good person-"

"He's good to you, though," Husk said. "Even I see that."

Charlie fidgeted with her empty wine glass. With a groan, she asked, "Be honest. Am I over-thinking the hell out of this?"

Husk exhaled. "You're the one who's dating the Radio Demon. You tell me."

She shook her head. "That doesn't exactly answer my question."

"That's 'cause I don't have an answer for you. Look, if it's any consolation, you're right. Yeah, he threatens me on the off occasion, but I guess that's just how we communicate and shit. Everyone else though? Nah, haven't seen him threaten anyone in a long-ass time. Fuck! Now that I think about it, he hasn't even killed anyone since joining the Hotel. And you should see the way he looks at you. He's so over the fucking moon, it's almost pathetic. You remember when I said you were making him more bearable?"

She nodded.

"I wasn't lying. That's all you. Nobody else." He took her glass to clean it. "Are you over-thinking things? Shit, maybe you are, maybe you ain't. Ain't up to me to tell you that. So long as he keeps on treating you and this hotel right…Just go from there."

Charlie silently contemplated his words. "Yeah," she exhaled. "No, I…I think you're right about everything. I'll…Just go from here."

Husk shrugged as he put the glass away. "And if he puts a toe outa line, kick his ass. He'll listen to you. God knows he don't take orders from no one else." He looked around. "Where is he right now anyway? Making dinner for all us lowly bums? Bit early still."

"Yeah," Charlie said as she slid off the bar stool. "He hasn't figured out what to make yet. I was gonna see him after I put up that picture of Fat Nuggets. You know, to see if he…needed company."

"Uh-huh," he muttered with a smirk. "You think that's even a question?"

"Well," she shrugged, rocking on her heels. "We're about to find out. He normally cooks alone, so." She smiled at him. "Thanks, Husk."

He grimaced. "I didn't do shit."

Her smiled turned into a smirk. "You know…You wouldn't make a bad therapist."

He rolled his eyes so hard they nearly rolled out of his skull. "Yeah, let's give every bartender a certificate why don't we. Like that'll be a good idea."

She chuckled and shook her head at him. She glanced down at the cardboard box full of picture frames. "Before I go, I wanted to ask you if I could put these empty frames in your storage room down here. It's not exactly fun having to haul these back and forth between here and my bedroom."

Husk nodded once, and he walked around the bar to the box. Charlie was about to suggest that she could take it there herself, until she saw the expression on Husk's face. Actually, lack thereof, because his face was completely neutral as he stared down at the box, but didn't pick it up.

Charlie looked at him with concern. "Everything okay?"

Ever so slightly, Husk shook his head to clear it. Then, he glanced at the walls, and then his bar. "One sec," he muttered. He reached behind his counter. Normally, when he was getting something from his bar, one could hear a lot of noisy shuffling and clattering, as if Husk was asserting some sort of dominance over his alcoholic possessions. This time, though, he seemed to move quietly and with care.

Gripped gently between the tips of his claws, he brought out something rectangular and handed it to Charlie. "You got enough space to put that up?"

It was a small canvas painting that was fraying around the edges. It depicted a wine bottle and a filled glass sitting on a table next to a dove. In the background was a flashy-looking stage of some sorts that was purposefully blurred to accentuate the foreground.

"This is so beautiful," Charlie breathed. She looked at Husk, who was now kneeling down to pick up the box. "Any place in particular you want me to put it up?"

Without looking at her, he turned towards one of the 'Employees Only' doors near his bar. He muttered something noncommittal and unintelligible as he left through the door, leaving her alone.

Before Charlie set off for the kitchen, she hung up the painting.

She put it up right next to Husk's bar. She didn't plan on hanging any more pictures on that section of wall if she could help it. For some reason, even though he'd avoided her gaze, this painting meant a lot to Husk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shout out to _RedHood001_. In a review, they said that Husk is turning into something of a reluctant therapist for the group, and honestly they were incredibly spot on about that happening. The story was already headed in that direction with that kind of thing, admittedly, but I didn't want to offend them. RedHood001 is fine with me continuing to use this as an idea, so thank you very much!
> 
> While I was doing the final edits, my fidget toy fell right on my keyboard. Everything looks fine, and I'll reread it a few more times. So I apologize for any errors. Even though this update was right on time, the next one might not be. I still have to work out a particular plot point. Thank you everyone for your patience and all the support you've given my story so far.


	20. Warm

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note: I am not an expert on cooking, or cooking terms.

When Charlie arrived in the kitchen, she found Alastor leaning over the butcher block, flicking through the pages of a cookbook. When he heard the door swing open, he turned his head towards her with a wide smile.

"Ah, Charlie, dearest," he exclaimed. "Do come in! Dinner isn't ready yet, though, I'm afraid."

"That's okay," she said as she walked over to him. "I was just coming to pay you a visit, and was wondering if you could use some help."

"Most certainly!"

Invitingly, he stepped sideways so she could stand next to him, giving her a view of the cookbook. When she stopped, she realized just how close she had to stand next to him in order to fit on that side of the block. She could now feel her shoulder pressing against his bicep. He didn't protest to this. In fact, his smile widened as he glanced at their proximity, and then he looked away to continue flipping through the book. Smiling slightly, Charlie slowly leaned herself against him a little, wanting to be closer. Instantly, as if he'd been waiting for some sort of cue, he leaned against her in kind.

She giggled slightly at this. "So, um," she cleared her throat, earning a lighthearted chuckle from Alastor. "What're you gonna make?"

He gave a long-suffering sigh. "Haven't decided yet. Steel and Angel Dust are requesting New York-style pizza. And then earlier today Niffty said she was craving gumbo. Decisions, decisions." He took his attention off the book to carefully tuck some hair behind Charlie's ear. "And what about you, my dear? Craving anything in particular?"

"Hmm," she muttered thoughtfully. "Actually, I haven't had pizza in a really long time. So, that sounds good."

Alastor tsked disapprovingly. "Very well, then," he said anyway as he flipped through the pages. "Pizza it is."

"Not a fan of pizza," she asked.

"I like it just fine, but I don't like to cook it. Far too simple in my opinion." He finally found a chapter with dough recipes. He nodded resolutely when he found one to his liking. "Ah, yes, this'll do just fine. Do wash your hands, my dear, while I get started on the crust," he said as he turned towards the cupboards to get flour, yeast, and other essentials.

As Charlie turned the sink on, she asked, "Do you want me to make the sauce?"

He turned to her, eyes lighting up at her suggestion. "That would be splendid! Go right on ahead."

After drying off her hands, she got out a large saucepan and set it on the counter next to a small cutting board. She supposed she could just use the butcher block, but it was currently being occupied by the cookbook, plus they mostly just used that as a table anyway.

As Charlie searched through the cabinets for what she needed, she stole a glance back at Alastor. She stopped, and couldn't help but watch him for a second. Within minutes, he was already working with homemade pizza dough. After turning the dough over his knuckles to stretch it, he began tossing and spinning it in the air to get the shape he needed. Excess flour snowed from the dough, sprinkling back down onto the counter and even onto his red hair.

Charlie chuckled a little. She'd never watched him cook before. His movements were so fluid. Even though he said he didn't like making pizza, this was still cooking, and it clearly came naturally to him.

He didn't slow, but upon hearing her chuckle he turned his gaze her way, and he flashed her a smirk and a wink. The smirk was what made her blush and the wink was sent her heart into a wonderful frenzy. In an effort to have some semblance of control over herself, she turned back to the cabinets to try and focus on the task at hand. 

She got out some fresh herbs and tomatoes and set them on the cutting board. She got to work, getting into the cooking mindset, while humming along to a tune from Alastor's microphone where it leaned against the butcher block.

Cooking wasn't just a hobby to Alastor, but an art form as well. A passion. Cooking contained memories, as well as the ability to spark new ones. And he held value in that. He would always gladly admit to anyone that he poured his heart and soul into everything he cooked. Normally, nothing could shake him of his rhythm.

Within seconds, though, his focus had been completely broken.

He stopped making the dough, letting it drape over his knuckles as he watched Charlie, who was working just a couple feet away from him on the long stretch of counter.

With precision, Charlie finely chopped the garlic, cilantro, and then the basil. Her knife skills weren't quite correct, given the way she crudely sliced it through the ingredients, but that certainly didn't stop her. She even used that same knife to clumsily scoop it all up in one go and dump it into the pot. She did the same with the tomatoes. She was so detailed that they were practically a pulp by the time she was done with them, and had tossed them into the pot as well. Her movements were slow as she took her time, but also calm and confident.

Entranced and unable to look away from her, the dough slipped from Alastor's fingers onto the countertop.

For some reason, his heart had started racing. A familiar thrill had returned. He felt like he was dancing with her all over again, even though he was standing there doing absolutely nothing in particular.

Unable to help himself, he crossed the distance in two long strides, pushed her hair out of the way again, and pressed a lingering kiss to her cheek.

Was this what falling in love felt like? Was that what this thrilling feeling was? Or was it just unique to him? Either or, he loved every breathless moment of it.

As soon as she felt his lips against her face, Charlie squeaked in delighted surprise and the knife clattered to the counter. Then, she sighed, her eyes fluttering a little at the warmth behind his kiss.

When he pulled away, she asked with a goofy smile, "W-what was that for?"

His smile was equally as giddy, and his eyes half-lidded. He chuckled slightly. "I have absolutely no idea. I just felt the need."

She chuckled as well as she lifted the pot and brought it over to the stove. "Well, you can definitely do that whenever you want to."

"That was alright?"

She turned to look at him, still smiling. "Yup," she ineloquently responded, making him chuckle again.

"I didn't know you could cook, my dear. I take it you learned from your parents? Although, I can't see them as being food experts. I'd imagine they'd be far too busy."

"No," Charlie shook her head as she struggled to get at least one of the burners working. "I taught myself. My parents wanted everything handed to me, but I didn't. And with how often I was away from the mansion, I either had to buy my own food or figure out how to make it myself. I'm not perfect at it, especially tomato sauce. I gotta make sure I didn't leave big chunks of garlic in it." She briefly looked at him with a slight scowl. "I've done that before, and it tastes horrible."

"Of course it would." He waved his hand dismissively. "But I was watching you the whole time, and I'm sure it'll turn out just fine. If not, we can redo it."

She gave him an accusatory smirk. "Isn't there some sort of rule about watching people while they cook? Isn't it rude?"

He smirked mischievously at her. "Oh ho ho! And what were you doing earlier while I was making the crust, hmm? Enjoying the view, were you?"

His smirk widened when an embarrassed blush blazed her cheeks. "Y-yeah, well," she stammered, rapidly glancing around. Then, her eyes landed on something behind him. "Well, your pizza dough is all floppy now, so…yeah," she ended with an indignant huff.

He laughed at how adorable that was as he turned his attention back to the dough which was, as Charlie said, all floppy and crumpled. He would have to rework it. Plus, it had also dried out, but no matter. Only a slight setback that was well worth it.

He went over to the cupboard, grabbed an empty glass, and went over to the sink, which was right next to the stove. He filled the cup with water as he yet again watched Charlie. She was frowning deeply at the stove.

"I'm very happy that I'm not the only one who's noticed the burners aren't working," Alastor commented. "The other day I was having the same issue, but they sprang to life after a good moment."

Finally, after much fidgeting, one of the burners finally lit. It was one of the smaller ones. The sauce would cook, but for much longer than anticipated.

"After we figure out what the problem is on this, just say the word and I'll have it fixed posthaste," he said, raising his fingers to indicate that he would snap them to fix it.

"Yeah," she muttered with a nod. The stove, of course, was one of their biggest necessities, and she was grateful that Alastor had the ability to repair anything with the snap of his fingers. But it was once again a cold reminder that if he was not here, then she would either have to fix it or replace the stove herself.

And with no money.

Charlie rapidly shook her head, not wanting to think about that right now and, well, put it on the back-burner so to speak.

As Alastor got back to work on the dough, using the water from his glass to rehydrate it, Charlie opened the fridge.

"Any preference for toppings," Charlie asked without looking back at him. She cringed a little. "Please don't ask for pineapple, okay?"

She heard him hum thoughtfully. "I don't mind pineapple on pizza, but I don't have a sweet tooth to begin with. Do whatever you like, my dearest."

"What about Angel and Steel? Did they have a preference?"

"They didn't say."

"Hmm." Charlie glanced at the clock on the wall to check the time.

She went back over to the cabinet, got out some more basil and a tomato, and she also reached for a bell pepper and an onion. She laid them out on the cutting board. "Looks like it's a vegetarian pizza. No time to cook any meat. Dinner's supposed to be in a half an hour-ish."

"What a shame," he remarked with a scowl, but shrugged anyway. "By the way, did you know that everyone has begun to come to me with food requests?"

"Can you blame them," Charlie grinned. "You make the best food here."

"Yes, but still," he said in an odd tone. "I'm used to you having no fear of me. I'm not used everyone else doing so as well."

She paused her chopping with a slight frown, thinking back to her conversation with Husk. "Would…that be such a bad thing?"

He didn't directly respond to that. His smile was a little disturbed and he stubbornly kept his gaze on the pizza dough while he finished it. "I suppose," was his vague response, and it didn't even completely answer her question. She wanted to ask further, but she heard the sauce finally beginning to bubble.

She went over to the pot and stirred it. "So, speaking of 'everyone'," she said slowly, unsure of how he'll react. "Everybody knows we're…together."

He paused. "Niffty?"

"Yup."

He sighed, making Charlie look back at him. When she did so, she saw him shrug, but she couldn't see his face. "I suppose I'm not surprised," he huffed. "She's not adept at keeping things to herself."

Charlie bit her lip. "Are you…okay with everyone knowing?"

There was a pause again, both in conversation and in making the dough. Then, he got back to work, flattening it into a crust. "I would've preferred to have kept it private for much longer than a mere few days, but it can't be helped now." He turned around to look at her. His smile was a little tense, but there was nothing to hint at animosity. He just appeared inconvenienced and annoyed. "And what about you?"

Charlie shrugged as she turned off the heat of the burner. "Well, like you said, it would've been nice to have kept it to ourselves for just a little while. But," she exhaled. She lifted the pot off the stove and onto the counter next to the crust. "You know how everyone is, not just Niffty. They all would've found out sooner or later."

His smile eased into something mildly amused as he shook his head. "And they all opted for 'sooner', it seems."

With the sauce finally done, Alastor ladled it onto the crust. After adding a variety of shredded cheeses and the toppings, he slid the large pie into the oven.

"Hopefully that'll be enough to sate our gluttonous, nosy sinners," he commented as he brushed some excess flour off his hands and sleeves.

Charlie smirked at him. "So there're _our_ sinners now? Not just mine?"

He rolled his eyes at her. "Slip of the tongue," he replied smoothly, and with a haughty shake of his head. Upon seeing that there was also flour on Charlie's cheek, he conjured a towel with a showy hand gesture. The flour had probably been from when he'd swooped in and kissed her there. He touched the towel to her face and swiped away the mess. "But yes. _Your_ sinners."

She rolled her eyes as well. And Alastor's eyes widened when she exaggeratedly mimicked his head-shaking gesture. "Slip of the tongue, of course," she grinned at him.

He normally loathed the thought of anyone trying to jest him like this. Any other imbecile that dared to tease him always brought about a new opportunity for him to remind them just who they were dealing with.

With Charlie...He didn't feel offended in the slightest. In fact, he was so endeared by it he thought his heart was going to leap right out of his chest.

After Charlie's playful imitation of him, he couldn't even begin to describe how much he wanted to slam his lips to hers. But, no, that wouldn't do, given his current track record with that. She was clearly having fun and the last thing he wanted to do would be to interrupt it with his inexperience. So, he decided to try going about it a different way, and he hoped she would be inclined to allow him.

He tossed the towel unceremoniously into the kitchen sink. He closed the distance between himself and Charlie by slowly, hesitantly winding his arms around her torso. For a moment, Charlie's eyes widened at this and he almost stepped back in uncertainty. But a smile spread across her face, and then she moved to rest the side of her head against his chest, sighing against him.

Understanding the invitation from her loud and clear, and all too happy, he tightened his hold around her slim figure and pressed her to him, allowing no space between them. He sighed into her hair. He had never held someone like this before. She felt warm, like a lovely campfire he'd often enjoyed during cookouts with the neighbors when he was still alive. He'd always been so sure that if he'd ever held someone like this that it wouldn't even feel right, like an invasion of privacy.

But her…

She felt so wonderful in his arms. He didn't want her to ever leave.

While he definitely would be thoroughly content with just this, especially if this was all that Charlie desired, his heart was still stuttering, telling him that he still wanted to feel her lips against his.

"I don't suppose I could tempt you to a kiss, my dearest," he murmured against her hair.

There was a pause from her, and then she pulled back a little, just enough so they could see each other's faces. He selfishly didn't want to let her go just yet. She was smiling brightly up at him. She did that a lot more often now, especially after they had declared their affections for one another. And, _goodness_ , he was addicted to her smile.

"Yeah," she said quietly. "Definitely."

Alastor was deliberately slow, but also wasted very little time. He tilted her chin upwards and leaned down. Stiffly, he moved his lips carefully over hers. He didn't dare to open his mouth completely, not wanting to expose her delicate flesh to his razor-sharp teeth. Charlie had told him later that he'd apparently almost done that when he'd first kissed her. Kissing was still new to him, but it would be a differently matter entirely if he wasn't careful and drew blood from her. He would…Good god, he would never be able to handle it if he accidentally did that to her.

He felt her raise herself onto her tiptoes, and for that he was grateful given how short she was compared to him. However, it wasn't quite enough. He slowly tightened his hold around her waist and raised her higher on her toes. She sighed blissfully against his mouth.

They finally separated their mouths for a few seconds. He rested his forehead against hers so they could catch their breaths. He realized that Charlie had moved her hands up to his shoulders at some point to hang on to him.

Then, he felt Charlie's lips brush questioningly against his own. Who was he to deny her? They pressed their lips back together once more. Charlie shifted a little, her brows scrunching slightly in discomfort.

Alastor immediately pulled back, loosening his hold around her waist as well. "Something wrong?"

Charlie exhaled slightly when she lowered herself onto the flats of her feet. She shook her head with a small smile. "Just need a break. Feet hurt a little."

He glanced behind her once, and said, "Allow me, then." He tightened his hold around her waist, lifted her straight up, and placed her onto the counter. Charlie gave a startled little gasped as she involuntarily flung her arms around his neck.

He…couldn't really describe what it felt like to have her arms around him like that. It was restrictive at its surface, but there was also something underlying there. Perhaps it was her, perhaps it was her touch in general, or perhaps it was because he was beginning to crave her closeness more and more. He enjoyed feeling her arms wrapped so trustingly around his neck, but was also grateful when she sheepishly slid them away to rest on his shoulders again.

He inhaled and exhaled as he stroked his thumb over her jaw line. How? How did she know when he was getting overwhelmed? He couldn't be wearing his emotions on his sleeves so obviously, could he? Either or, he stared at her lips, compelled to convey his affection, and now his appreciation, once more.

"May I," he murmured as he pressed their foreheads together.

Charlie smiled, nodded, and waited for his lips to find hers.

His grip around her torso hadn't faltered since placing her on the counter. As they kissed once again, he couldn't imagine letting her go just yet. Their kisses today weren't rushed or frantic. They were slow, careful, warm, and so very lovely. Alastor felt like he was flying, or melting, or one of the two, or even both, he couldn't decide. But all good things, he supposed, must come to an end.

Alastor heard the kitchen door swing ever-so-slightly.

His hand instantly covered the back of Charlie's head, as if doing so would protect her modesty. Most people didn't find kissing to be too intimate, but he did. And even if Charlie would've been fine with someone accidentally walking in on them, he could imagine she would still be quite startled and flustered by it.

He, however, did not like it in the least. And even though the kitchen could, to some extent, be considered a public area of the Hotel, he was still incredibly offended by the intrusion. He released Charlie's lips, snapping his gaze over her shoulder to glare at whoever had just walked in.

But by the time he'd looked up, all he was able to ascertain was a woman's quietly harsh gasp, a flash of a pink bow and white hair, and then the door swinging closed, as if no one had even been there to begin with.

The shrill timer on the stove shamefully made him jump.

Panting slightly, Charlie looked over at the oven. "We…We should get the pizza out before it burns."

He finally looked away from the door to look at her, breathing heavily as well. She was staring up at him with rosy cheeks and a shy smile on her glistening lips, all the while self-consciously fixing her hair. And what a sight she was!

Alastor smiled softly at her and stopped her hands. He placed a kiss on one of her knuckles. "You look lovely."

Her blush burned brighter. "I – Thanks. Y-you do, too."

"I take it that was better," he asked hopefully.

She nodded. "Definitely better. Yeah."

Then, she squinted her eyes as her sights fell on his hair. She lifted a hand up, but stopped and looked at him. He raised a brow at her questioningly, but he wasn't tense. Gently, she ran her fingers over a tuft of his hair, flicking away some excess flour that was still stubbornly clinging to him. After she took her hand away, she was thinking about how soft his hair felt. Her thoughts were broken by the timer sounding again.

"Um," she said as she tried to halfheartedly wiggle off the counter. "We should really check on the pizza right now."

Alastor looked down, and quite awkwardly realized that he had placed himself in between her legs. He immediately backed off, and needlessly took her hands to help her off the counter. As soon as her feet were on the floor, he turned away towards the oven in what he hoped was nonchalance, because he could feel his face mysteriously heating up.

When he took the pizza out of the oven – which came out perfectly, the sauce and the crust especially – Charlie began cutting it into neat slices. As she did so, Alastor looked back over at the kitchen door. He hadn't fully seen who had walked in on them, but he knew exactly who it had been.

"While I take care of this," Charlie said, getting his attention. "Can you go let everyone else know that dinner is ready?"

It occurred to him that Charlie hadn't seemed to have noticed their almost-visitor.

He stared at the door again, a mischievous smirk splitting his face. Well, now…

As an opportunist, this would certainly be an interesting opportunity.


	21. Weight

The Hotel currently didn’t have any set schedule, other than game nights and movie nights. Everything else was often left up in the air. Breakfast could be anywhere between eight and ten, lunch was almost always at noon or one, and dinner could happen anywhere between four and nine. Charlie eventually wanted to get a structure of some sort for mealtimes, but hadn’t found common ground yet given how erratic everyone else’s schedules could be. Tonight, dinner was to be at around six, which was in less than ten minutes.

Plenty of time, Alastor figured.

He wasn’t one for hunting. He also wasn’t one to go out of his way to childishly mock anyone. But he also couldn’t pass up an opportunity to witness misery unfolding.

Especially the misery of this particular individual.

He would save her for last. He’d find her, deliver a quick sarcastic comment, a bit of sass, and then leave her to stew in her fury and anguish as he turned on his heel to attend dinner. He might even whistle a merry tune as he did so just to further get on her nerves. Yes, all of that could happen in under five minutes if he was efficient enough, allowing him to attend dinner with the Hotel’s sinners, and his darling Charlie, on time.

As he casually searched the halls, he was admittedly looking forward to doing this. It’d been many months since he’d basked in someone else’s despair. And while he absolutely couldn’t wait to finally do something mischievous, something…felt heavy in his chest.

Or was it constrictive? He wasn’t quite sure. It wasn’t necessarily a sense of dread, but it did hold weight to it for some odd reason.

Alastor rolled his eyes at himself. Whatever the reason might be, he could definitely ignore it if it meant a small dose of entertainment.

Husk appeared around the next corner. “Dinner ready yet,” he asked.

“Yes. Pizza tonight.”

Husk simply nodded at that as he walked passed. “Nice.”

“By the way,” Alastor said, making Husk stop. “I don’t suppose you’ve seen Vaggie around?”

He frowned at him. “The hell do you want with her?”

“To let her know dinner is ready, of course!”

Husk flexed his jaw, staring at him suspiciously. “…What the fuck are you planning?”

Alastor laughed. “I just told you, didn’t I?”

He shook his head at Alastor, not liking the extra arrogance in that damned smile of his. But he was also unable to disobey. He knew that Alastor wasn’t going to do anything harmful, and that he probably truly was just going to let her know dinner was ready, but something still didn’t sit right with him.

He sighed. “Saw her heading for the foyer it looked like.”

Alastor’s smile didn’t falter. “Wonderful.”

Before getting out of ear shot, he heard Husk hollering, “Don’t do anything stupid, you jackass!”

Alastor could’ve easily retorted to that, but his words caught in his throat. The weight returned, as if to remind him of something. But of what? Alastor scowled at this feeling, and he willed it to go away by the time he got to the entryway of the Hotel. Thankfully, it did, and he was now able to rehearse inside his head any little quip that he deemed appropriate for Vaggie’s heartbreaking situation, and then leave her to stew. Quick and professional.

Alastor found Vaggie right next to the front doors, curled up against the wall with her face buried in her arms.

He cleared his throat intrusively. “Dinner is ready,” he exclaimed cheerfully, which garnered no reaction from her. “More than enough for everyone. Won’t you join us?”

“No,” Vaggie muffled against her arms.

His knowing smirk was unwavering. “Oh? And why’s that?”

Vaggie finally snapped her gaze to him. Her lips were pulled back in a snarl, and her eye was wet and rimmed red. “Fuck. Off. You heartless asshole.”

He clicked his tongue and shook his head. “Now, now. No need for language. I was simply wondering if you desired any pizza. But I can see you’re far too busy in your self-pity –”

“Oh, look at that,” Vaggie sneered at him. “The composed Radio Demon actually wants to gloat for once. What the fuck do you want from me?”

He tilted his head. “You think I’m gloating? How simple of a conclusion.”

Vaggie continued to glare. “What-”

“Let me guess,” Alastor continued. “You think I’m here to flaunt my newfound relationship with Charlie, hmm?” He paused to laugh. “Oh, no, no, no. Nothing good would come of doing that, and nor is it warranted.” His smirk darkened. “I simply wish to have a front row seat to your misery. Of course, I don’t have to tell you that. You know how I am.”

Vaggie didn’t leave her position on the floor, but she was visibly trembling from sheer rage by this point. “Fuck…you!”

Alastor snickered under his breath and shook his head. He had successfully gotten a rise out of her and had made her feel utterly exasperated. That was enough, he supposed. No need to overdo it.

He grinned down at her. “I don’t see a smile on your face.”

That little remark was meant to be the icing on the cake, as well as to try and ignore the mysterious weight that had returned. It was growing heavier and heavier with every passing minute.

With a fierce snarl, Vaggie snatched her backpack off the floor, reeled her arm back to throw it at him full force, and…

She let the pack slip from her fingers, until it plopped down beside her. The sigh she emitted wasn’t tired or even exasperated. While it was sad, it sounded more resigned than anything else. “Haven’t done a whole lot of smiling lately, anyway,” she mumbled. “Of course…I don’t have to tell you that.”

The mocking edge in her voice kindly reminded him that this little exchange between them had gone on long enough, and that it was now time to take his leave.

“Dinner is ready,” he reminded as he began turning away. “I’m sure Charlie will save you a plate.”

“Don’t bother.”

Without looking back, he said, “Charlie will miss you. We’ll make sure there are leftovers at the very least.”

“You really didn’t come here to gloat, did you?”

At how deadpanned her voice sounded, Alastor stopped, raised a brow, and turned to face her. Vaggie wasn’t sneering, glaring, or even frowning. In fact, her face held very little emotion. She was looking at him with the most neutral expression he’d ever seen from her.

The arrogant smirk didn’t leave his face as he genuinely nodded. “I have no reason to gloat. Especially to the likes of you.”

Vaggie snorted harshly. “So…Just some lovely, invigorating _schadenfreude_ to pass the time, huh?”

Alastor laughed so heartily he almost tossed his head back. “Ah, you and your defensive wit!” He casually straightened his suit with a proud smirk. “I _am_ here in this hotel to enjoy some entertainment, no?”

Vaggie rolled her eye, curling her knees tighter to her chest. “Yeah, well, now you’re getting it, I guess,” she muttered.

“ _You wanted entertainment. Now you’re getting it!_ ” Charlie’s agonizing words from after their shopping trip rang loudly in his head.

The weight in his chest slammed into him like a derailing freight train. He had to straighten himself up against the force of it, his spine going rigid. His hands began to tremble, and he immediately folded them behind his back in the most casual gesture he could muster. Whatever the hell this was, he forced himself not to let it show. His smile and even his body had become completely still, unwavering as he stared at Vaggie as if nothing was affecting him.

Vaggie’s brows scrunched as she observed him, trying to make sense of his tense stature and expression. Then, she shook her head. She was too drained to overanalyze this son of a bitch. And besides, he wasn’t going to be her problem anymore.

None of it would be.

As Alastor’s breathing finally evened out, he was able to calm himself ever so slightly. It helped that Vaggie hadn’t seemed to catch on to his strange predicament. Desperate to compose himself even more, and to not appear weak in front of the infuriating woman, his eyes fell on her backpack. “Going hiking, I see,” he asked, hoping to whatever gods there were that his voice didn’t sound strained.

Vaggie shook her head at him. “I’m leaving.”

Finally, the last of the weight dissipated as her words sunk in to his muddled mind. Had he heard her correctly?

When he didn’t say anything, Vaggie exhaled. “I-I’m done. I told Charlie it’d be too painful for me to stick around, too painful for the both of us…” Vaggie squeezed her eyes shut as her voice dropped to a whisper. “Looks like it’s only painful for me.”

“And you think that Charlie won’t miss you,” he asked.

Vaggie shook her head. “Of course she’ll miss me. I know I’ll miss her. I just… gotta figure out where I’m gonna go first, so I can tell Charlie.”

“That raises more questions than answers,” Alastor said sarcastically. “Tell Charlie what?”

“So I can tell her where I’m going.” At Alastor’s perplexed expression, she rolled her eye. “She’s worried that I won’t be safe wherever I go. And, yeah, I suppose I get that. If the roles were reversed, I’d wanna know where she’s going.”

“Even though you’re no longer romantically involved?”

For a split second, Vaggie thought he was mocking her, and she opened her mouth to bite back a reply. Only, after seeing his curious grin, she realized she didn’t see any mockery in his eyes. “That doesn’t matter,” Vaggie replied after a moment. “Charlie and I aren’t together anymore, but that doesn’t mean we won’t ever stop caring about each other. I…” She swallowed harshly. “Am I pissed about how everything went? Oh, fuck yeah. Especially when it comes to _you_! But if I leave without her knowing it, she’ll find a way to blame it on herself.”

“Yes,” he muttered. “That does sound like her.”

“I don’t want her following me or trying to convince me to stay. She’s tried that already and it won’t work. But she at least needs to know that I’ll be alright. She…She deserves that much.”

At seeing Vaggie curl in on herself, Alastor couldn’t help but say what was obvious. “You still love her.”

Vaggie sniffled. “So much that it fucking hurts.” She glared down at her backpack. “And I don’t even know where the fuck to go. I…I told her that I might have some friends that would take me in, but that was a load of shit. Charlie was the first and only person I became friends with when I arrived in Hell…” Vaggie said a few other things, but he tuned her out.

He stood there, staring at her with his signature grin, wracking his brain and trying to figure out why he was no longer entertained by this situation. If this were Charlie in front of him, the reason would be obvious and he would be doing everything in his power to soothe and comfort her.

However, this wasn’t her. This was Vaggie, a demon who had gotten on his nerves on and off ever since he arrived at the Hotel. He definitely didn’t view her as a threat by any stretch of the definition. And he genuinely wasn’t here to gloat either. He thought it would’ve been fun to goad her for a few minutes, and it had been. But now…Something’s changed.

This wasn’t a random demon off the street. This wasn’t a new resident of the Hotel. This wasn’t one of his indebted subjects that he could command and torment.

This was Charlie’s ex-lover. More specifically, this was someone that Charlie held value in, even if he himself did not. And even though Charlie and Vaggie were no longer lovers, that didn’t mean they didn’t care about each other any less. This was someone that Charlie cared about, just like how she cared about this hotel.

He…

…This was a mistake.

_He_ made a mistake.

Oh! But he definitely couldn’t let that show! Not in front of Vaggie.

“Well, then,” Alastor exclaimed jovially, making Vaggie cringe irately. “How lucky you are to know me! I have plenty of friends! Well. Not friends. That’s too strong of a word.” Imitating sleight of hand for showmanship purposes, he conjured a business card and handed it to Vaggie. “Acquaintances would be a more appropriate term. And this is one of them.”

Vaggie took the card, and scowled as she read it. “I don’t get along with anyone on a good day…And you think I’d get along with an overlord?”

Alastor ignored her sarcasm. “Mention my name to her and she’ll more than likely give you temporary quarters. Although, she may make you work for it in the meantime. She runs a tight ship and won’t tolerate slacking off or _sleeping_ on the job.”

“Screw you,” Vaggie muttered.

From somewhere in the Hotel, one of the many clocks chimed. “Well, I’m afraid I’ve been absent for too long. Dinner sounds lovely right about now. Do enjoy your little trip, Vaggie dear.” He turned around and walked away.

He didn’t see Vaggie jumping to her feet. In a couple quick strides, she very unexpectedly cut off his path.

His smile widened in astonishment, both impressed and now thoroughly irritated by her brazenness.

“I’m gonna say this once,” she began slowly. “So you better listen.” She knew she didn’t look menacing in the slightest as she raised herself onto her tiptoes to be at eye level with him, but she couldn’t back down from this. Not for a second.

Through clenched, bared teeth, she spoke. “I will kill you…if you hurt her. So don’t fuck up.”

Alastor’s eyes narrowed dangerously. “I don’t take kindly to threats.”

As best as she could, Vaggie ignored the harsh radio static that began buzzing warningly in the air around her. “I don’t take kindly to my love life being ruined.”

“And you attribute that to me?”

There was the slightest of pauses on Vaggie’s end. “No,” she admitted bitterly. “Not completely. But you can’t deny you’ve had one hell of an influence on her from the very beginning. So…Did you hear what I said?”

Alastor scoffed under his breath and shook his head at her. “I don’t need to explain-”

“Oh, was that threat not specific enough for you,” Vaggie interrupted. “How about this? I’ll get creative. If you hurt her, in any way, I will shove your microphone so far up your ass you’ll be choking on your own radio static.” Vaggie was inches from his face. “Did you fucking hear me that time?”

Alastor’s radio static drastically rose in volume, so much so that Vaggie had no choice but to cringe against the horrible sound. Then, quite suddenly, it stopped, being replaced by something far louder.

Alastor’s laughter echoed off the walls of the foyer. He had his hand against his forehead, trying and failing to contain his hysteria. Vaggie tilted her head back with a baffled grimace. She had just threatened the Radio Demon in the most detailed of descriptions…And he was laughing at her.

Well, not laughing at her, per se. It was almost as if he was laughing at the situation as a whole. Either or, it still got on her nerves like nothing else.

After many seconds – or it could’ve been minutes – Alastor began wiping at the corners of his eyes. “Now that,” he exclaimed, shoulders still shaking with mirth. “That…was quite entertaining! Goodness me, no one has ever dared to threaten me in such a manner!”

Vaggie glared at him. “Good. So you _did_ hear me that time.”

“Oh, loud in clear,” he said, shaking his head as he finally composed himself.

“Good,” she repeated as she walked away to pick her backpack up off the floor.

“You have my word,” she heard him say. The gentle tone in his voice made her look up from dusting off her pack. He was looking at her with a neutral smile, no longer any hints of mockery or belittling.

“Well, then,” he said as he turned around in the direction of the kitchen. “I’m afraid you’ve made me late. As I said, we’ll set some pizza aside for you.”

Vaggie opened her mouth to ask why. He knew she was leaving, and on top of it all, he didn’t like her. Why the hell would he bother saving any food for her?

Her mind rapidly flipped through the interaction she’d just had with Alastor in this foyer. All of his arrogance, all of his odd, indecipherable mood swings, and constantly bringing up Charlie…

Eventually, her eyes widened.

“You don’t just care about her,” Vaggie’s voice was a whisper, and she didn’t even know if he could hear her with how far down the hall he was. “…You love her.”

Alastor’s footsteps stopped.

He was too far away for Vaggie to decipher any reaction, and his back was to her so she also couldn’t see any facial expression.

Vaggie exhaled. “Okay, then,” she said…in a strangely neutral tone. She shook her head, not wanting to think any more of it, not having any more emotional energy left. But what was surprising was that…she didn’t feel anything. And she didn’t know if that was worse. She didn’t know why it _would_ be worse.

To distract herself, she changed the subject. “Look, before I leave, I gotta know, and it’s something that I’ve wanted to know since day one, especially now that you and Charlie are dating.” She paused. “What were you originally planning for the Hotel? I mean, come on. Sheer, absolute boredom? That’s all? You…can’t convince me that you didn’t have an ulterior motive.”

She saw Alastor tilt his head ever so slightly. Then, without looking back, he resumed walking towards the kitchen without a word.

Not even his radio static was audible.

That was enough of an answer for Vaggie.


	22. Enough

After everyone filed into the kitchen little by little, they all took their plates into the common room to eat, as per routine.

Charlie glanced around for a place to sit. This common area was right outside the dining hall, and was the most used place to eat a meal as a result. No one thought that there was anything wrong with the dining hall, and occasionally sinners did use it for its intended purpose. But as of right now the entire room was left untouched for the most part, place settings neatly set up on the table that always ended up collecting dust.

Charlie honestly saw the logic in not using that room. It was so large that you could hear an echo no matter where you were in the room, and it was so regal it bordered on gaudy and intimidating. The common areas were much cozier and had a close-knit feel.

A good portion of the residents were fairly independent to some degree. They also all had schedules of their own. So it was always an interesting change of pace whenever everyone gathered together. Sometimes no one even said a word to each other, enjoying the meal in a comfortable silence. Other nights though you couldn't get anyone to stop talking, especially Angel Dust, Niffty, or Steel, or sometimes even Husk.

This was wonderful, and it made Charlie so happy. Demons, even those that were friends with each other, often showed animosity in close quarters. No one liked to feel trapped or as if they had an obligation to be near someone. It was now very rare to see any of the residents be irritated with each other during meals, or during… _ever_ , actually. It had taken a while for everyone to find common ground with each other, especially concerning Steel and Sanderson, but once they did, there were very little problems. Everyone seemed to treat each other like siblings. 

Adopted, irritable, reluctant, demonic siblings.

The one thing that would end up needing addressed, however, _was_ being in close quarters. Most of the common areas were small to begin with, but it wasn't a problem. That is, when there used to be only the six of them. There was now a total of nine residents in the Hotel. And there was only so much sofa and chair space before one would have to take a seat on the floor, or tediously dragging over some other piece of furniture from a different part of the Hotel to sit on. Space in the common area was now bordering on limited. They might very well have to start using the dining hall soon, if they got in anymore residents.

Charlie had to take a seat on the floor. They were still waiting on Alastor and two more residents to show up, and they would most likely take the remaining couch and chair. As she waited, she thought about the dining room, and how to make it more welcoming and homey.

This musing was put on hold when her ears picked up on Alastor's radio static. She looked up and smiled when she saw him walking towards the common area. A couple of the residents casually greeted him, to which he gave a curt head nod.

Charlie opened her mouth to greet him as well, but then she closed it, her smile fading into something curious. Alastor had his arms crossed behind his back, humming a random little tune, and wearing his ever-present smile. It was the smile that got Charlie's attention. It wasn't as wide as it normally was, as if something had tired him. Charlie chewed her bottom lip, trying not to read too far into.

She wanted to learn everything about him. His likes, his dislikes, his past, his passions, and the overall inner workings of his mind. However, she knew she had to be careful. She was learning more and more with every passing day that his smile never held one singular, gleeful emotion. It could be tense, kind, solemn, or even wistful, to name a few. His usual manic grin was supposed to hide these emotions as well as many others, or at least that was how Charlie was understanding it. His smile could be genuine, as she'd seen a multitude of times, but he also used it as a wall. Therefore, she had to be careful not to offend him, or diminish the trust he had for her.

Alastor glanced around, searching. Then his eyes fell on Charlie, and his smile widened softly.

"Hello, my dear," he said as he approached. "Why, may I ask, are you sitting on the floor? There's plenty of seating to choose from still."

"Vaggie and Angel haven't gotten here yet, so I was making sure they had a place to sit. It looks like they've become really good friends lately," Charlie explained. "If you want, you can take the chair next to it."

Alastor glanced at the suede recliner, scowled briefly at it as if it personally offended him, and proceeded to make Charlie blush in surprise as he serenely sat down on the floor beside her. He ran his hands downward to straighten his coat, probably feeling a little undignified. He jumped slightly when he accidentally brushed the side of her leg with his own, but quickly recovered by decidedly shifting closer to her for more of that contact.

"I, um," Charlie muttered coyly as she handed him the extra plate. "I saved you a slice."

He gladly took it from her. "And here I thought I would've been too late and that there would be nothing left. Do forgive my tardiness, dearest." He took a bite. "There's enough left for the rest of the sinners, yes?"

For a split second, Charlie thought this question was just a little too selfless on Alastor's part, until she reminded herself that he took pride in his cooking. It only made sense that he wanted to share it and show it off.

Charlie nodded. "More than enough-"

"And thank god for that," Steel obnoxiously interrupted with a wide grin. "Best damn pizza I've had in ages! Can't wait to steal some extra slices and hoard them in our room's mini fridge."

"I am willing to bet you're the origin of the phrase 'sticky fingers'," Baxter muttered in a deadpanned voice. "You have such an urge to steal something that you have to make up an excuse to do so."

Steel flipped him the bird, but his smile was good-natured.

Others joined in on the jesting, ending it all with some muttered, but enthusiastic 'thank yous' directed at Alastor.

"Well, now," Alastor grinned. "I can't take all the credit for this one, for once." He unabashedly curled his fingers through Charlie's, and raised their joined hands for emphasis. "Our wonderful hotel owner did as much of the work as I did. Surely she deserves credit as well."

Smiling, but also wiggling a little with embarrassment, Charlie placed a kiss on Alastor's knuckles as a silent thank you of her own, but didn't say or do much else as she lowered their hands.

Everyone else followed up Alastor's words by adding in some extra compliments about how great it tasted and how they were all going to go for seconds. They didn't directly compliment Charlie the way they did with Alastor, and for that she was a little grateful. It had been a long time since she'd taken a compliment from so many people at once. She didn't know how she'd handle it. Alastor making sure they at least recognized their joint effort was enough for her in this instance.

She gave his hand a final squeeze before letting it go. "Thank you," she said. "Uh, by the way…" She let her voice drop a little, so as not to bring too much attention to themselves. "Are you okay?" It was honestly a redundant question now that his smile seemed as normal as ever, but she still felt compelled to at least ask.

Before taking another bite of the pizza, he arched a brow at her. "I am, yes. Why do you ask?"

"No reason, really. You just…seemed a little tired earlier."

Something flashed in his expression. It almost looked like surprise and maybe curiosity, but it was gone in a blink, as if she'd only imagined it.

"I'm quite fine," he responded smoothly. There was a pause. "But thank you for asking." He left it at that to continue eating.

Interesting enough, dinner for the rest of that night was uneventful. Once again, Charlie was grateful for that.

Husk wasn't normally a liar, so when he said that everyone in the Hotel knew they were dating, Charlie believed him. And even if some of them hadn't known, watching Alastor holding up their entangled hands was obviously a dead giveaway. Charlie expected teasing comments and jeering to result from it. Everyone here loved gossip.

But for some reason, it never came. They all carried on their own conversations as if it were just any other normal evening.

Everyone had their own little cliques, in a way. 

Steel, Sanderson, and sometimes Baxter often swapped stories with each other. Husk and Niffty often sat in companionable silence, only occasionally asking each other how their workday went. And sometimes, when feeling extra social, everyone would join in on each other's conversations as a whole. There were only two differences tonight.

One of them was that Alastor was far more talkative than usual, especially with Husk, Niffty, and sometimes Steel throughout this evening. Usually, Alastor was often calm at mealtimes, enjoying the food while observing everyone's conversations from a distant, only giving his two cents every so often. Tonight, he seemed more social.

And two, Angel Dust and Vaggie hadn't shown up for dinner.

Charlie sighed heavily.

"Everything alright, dearest," Alastor asked her, cutting off his own conversation with Niffty. "You haven't touched your food yet."

"Oh," she said, looking down at the uneaten pizza on her plate. "Right, yeah. I'm fine. Just wondering where Vaggie and Angel are."

Once again, an odd expression came over his face, this one completely unreadable to Charlie. "Ah, I see. Well, if memory serves, this is one of Angel Dust's work nights. And I did manage to find Vaggie, but she didn't seem to want to join. However, I made sure she knew she had the option." He smiled thinly, placed a kiss against her hair, and resumed his and Niffty's conversation as if nothing had interrupted it.

As Charlie took a bite of her pizza, she stared at the empty couch she'd saved for Vaggie and Angel. Angel's situation made sense, obviously, but she briefly wondered if she should attempt to find Vaggie, to at least make sure nothing was wrong. Yet, a couple things stopped her.

Everyone in the Hotel seemed to have a silent agreement that not everyone would share meals all the time. So, everyone would always communicate to each other when food was ready – especially if Alastor was cooking – and leave it at that, never forcing anyone to join if they didn't want to.

Also, it was extremely doubtful that Vaggie would even want to see her. Vaggie wasn't a gossiper, but given her defensive nature, she always listened in on gossip for any foul play.

Charlie knew that Vaggie knew about her new relationship with Alastor. And there was no way that she would be able to comfort Vaggie in any way shape or form with this kind of situation.

Charlie swallowed the lump that formed in her throat, trying not to feel guilty. She knew she'd done nothing wrong. After all, you can't help it if you fall in love with someone, whoever they may be. But she couldn't imagine what must be going through Vaggie's mind, how horribly this must be effecting her.

Charlie sat up a little straighter, trying to enjoy the wonderful pizza and the friendly atmosphere, hoping that Vaggie would eventually join them. However, Charlie was no fool when it came to emotions. Despite her hopes, she knew how reclusive Vaggie could be, and that she might not see for a long time. Not just tonight.

But that was okay. Hopefully, in time, she'd be able to talk to Vaggie to clear the air between them.

\-------

"That pizza was delicious," Charlie commented as they walked to her room. "How did you get the crust like that? It was almost like, um…what's the word? Puff pastry, I think it's called?"

"That might've been as a result of my magic," Alastor said. "I had to speed up the yeast process with so little time." He shrugged slightly. "I don't enjoy using my magic when food is involved. Cooking results tend to be altered when not done completely by hand."

"Still, it was amazing! Normally no one likes pizza crust, but we all devoured it."

He grinned devilishly at her. "Oh, are you sure it was just the crust?" He brought their intertwined hands to his mouth to place a kiss against their fingers. "I seem to recall the sauce having its own charm."

"Oh my god," she muttered as she desperately tried to cover the blush on her face with her free hand. He did not just flirt with her. He did not just flirt with her using cooking words!

He chuckled and briefly bent down to place another kiss on one of her reddened cheeks as they came to a stop in front of her door.

"Well," she sighed. "This is me."

"Indeed."

Charlie glanced down at their hands, both of which in no hurry to let go of each other. "You know," she began hesitantly. "If…if you want, you can…spend the night?"

He blinked curiously. "In your room?"

She nodded.

A couple days ago, Charlie had spent two nights in a row in Alastor's room. It was mostly to get as much rest as possible after passing out from her powers, but also because she enjoyed being that close with him. It was a cozy intimacy that she'd been craving since then. She was hoping he'd say yes, but also wouldn't be disappointed if he said otherwise. She knew it was a possibility that he wouldn't be comfortable with it yet.

Then, he smiled softly at her. "I think that would be nice."

"Oh," Charlie said, smiling brightly. "Great! Right! Um." She let go of his hand to open her door, and stepped aside to let him through. "Come right on in."

Alastor opened his mouth to reply 'lady's first', but then he calmly shut it and walked on. Though his gentlemanly manners his mother had raised him to have constantly came about whenever he was around Charlie, in this instance he could relent a little. Not only did he remind himself that he mainly wanted Charlie to have the leading role in their relationship, this bedroom belonged to her. If she wanted him to enter first, then he'd respect her request.

His mother would be proud of…

Well…She obviously wouldn't be proud of most of the things he'd done both in life and afterlife. In fact, she would be horrified by all of it. But falling in love with someone as kind and as charming as Charlie…

Yes. His mother would definitely be proud of him. At least in that regard.

He quieted his pensive mind at once as he walked inside, clearing his throat as he felt it get tighter, as well as to try and ignore the stinging in his eyes.

Charlie's room was simplistic, but also with hints of regality throughout. It had all the essentials of any hotel room, as well as other amenities.

Off to one side was a queen-sized bed over an intricately woven rug. Not too far from that was a stand that held a small TV, her laptop, and some haphazardly-stacked DVDs. On the other side of the room was an en suite, a balcony, and a large stained glass window overlooking the city.

Alastor walked towards the window curiously.

To some, most stained glass art could be considered pompous and posh due to all the supplies and tediousness needed for such a delicate craft. However, Charlie's window held shades of pink, yellow, black, grey, all with seemingly no pattern. There was no rhyme or reason to it, it didn't have any discernible details. It was just an elegant yet playful mesh of colors.

Alastor grinned at, thinking that it seemed to suit Charlie.

Charlie was on the other side of the room, going through one of her closets, when she realized something. "I…don't think I have any pajamas that'll fit you," she told him, making him turn to face her. "You might have to go back to your room to get them."

He waved dismissively. "I don't own nightwear. I'll just take off my coat and boots, as always." And he did just that, toeing off his boots and removing his fraying-at-the-edges dress coat, until he was only clad in his black socks, his red pants, and his red dress shirt and bow tie. "Anyplace in particular you want me to set my things," he asked as he used his arms to neatly fold his coat.

Charlie looked at him, definitely not meaning to ogle him or anything. It just fascinated her that he had actually removed some of his layers in such a relaxed fashion. He hadn't even done that when she'd spent those nights in his room. She shook her head a little to clear her thoughts in order to respond to his question. "Anywhere is fine," she responded, taking a set of pajamas out of her closet for herself. She looked inside the closet. "Actually, you can set all of it in here, if you want."

He nodded once, and walked over to her. She stepped aside a little to give him room. Then, she tilted her head as she observed him. He was calmly hanging his coat on a hook and figuring out where to put his shoes, all of this done in silence.

Frowning slightly, Charlie slowly leaned sideways, until the side of her face was gently pressed against his arm. As soon as he felt this, he flinched, his smile freezing up for the briefest of moments, before he relaxed. He wound his arm around Charlie's back, pressing more of her against him.

"You're not saying much," she carefully pointed out. "If…you're not comfortable with this, we can always come back to it. Do it later."

He chuckled, squeezing her even closer. "My dearest, I've already shared a bed with you, two days in a row even. While it's true that we're not in my room this time, that doesn't make me any less comfortable." He paused. "I can understand why you would think so. But I'm simply taking it all in, taking my time, and thoroughly enjoying your company. Also, I'm not sure what the proper etiquette of being in your lover's bedroom is, and I don't wish to overstep."

Charlie chuckled, shaking her head against his arm. "You have the same habit I do."

Alastor raised a brow. "Which is…?"

She shook her head again with a gentle smile. "Never mind." She stepped back. As she yawned, she felt his arm around her waist slacken before dropping. This made her smile even more. Up until now, any time she'd pull back from one of his touches, whatever the reason might be, he'd instantly let go. She knew he did this for two reasons. One, to ensure he wasn't crossing a line. And two, because he also didn't know quite how to respond to it. The fact that his arm lingered around her waist for a few extra seconds told her that he didn't want to let go, that he was becoming more comfortable with that kind of contact, but also wanting to respect her boundaries by taking his arm away as she stepped back.

She took his hand, gave it a squeeze, and nodded to the bed. "Why don't you go lie down while I get changed?"

He turned his head sharply in the direction of her bed, as if only now realizing that that was where they would be sleeping tonight. Then, he straightened up a little.

"I…Yes, quite. Obviously." He paused to step closer to her and stroke his fingers against her jaw with that soft smile. "I shall see you in a moment then, my dearest. When you're finished, that is."

Charlie placed her hand over his, briefly leaning into his touch, and her smile widened when his eyes seemed to light up at that. He always seemed to enjoy touching her face, given how many times he's done so. She didn't realize until now just how much she liked it, the sense of familiarity and comfort behind it. Also, she was happy that Alastor was enjoying himself. Romantic touches were daunting to Alastor, so Charlie was more than happy to indulge him.

But she needed to reluctantly pull away to go get changed, and also to allow Alastor to adjust to being in a room that wasn't his own.

She closed the bathroom door behind her. After removing her clothes, she took a quick shower. Just as she was slipping her nightgown on, she heard a knock.

"I'll be out in a sec, Al," she said as she adjusted herself.

"That actually was not me," she heard his muffle voice reply.

Eyebrows scrunching, she walked out of her bathroom to see Alastor sitting cross-legged on the bed, his back against the headboard. He started shifting his position to get up. "If you still need a few minutes, I can answer that," he said, pointing to her bedroom door.

She shook her head as she walked towards it. "No, that's fine. You look comfortable. I'll get it."

Charlie didn't know who to expect when she opened her door. It was fairly late, and everyone would probably be in bed already. She definitely didn't expect Angel Dust to be waiting out in the hallway. Normally, he worked until well after midnight. This was early for him.

She gave him a wide smile. "Hey, Angel! We didn't see you at dinner. But there's still…plenty…of…" Charlie trailed off.

Angel was silently leaning against the wall, his shoulders hunched, and not meeting her gaze. He was scowling harshly and tiredly at the floor of the hallway. Angel was meticulous about his appearance, so it was abnormal to see bags under his eyes. And his arms were crossed, with something white clenched in one of his fists.

Charlie frowned. "Angel, what-"

"Saw Vaggie on my way back in." Without warning, he shoved what he had in his hand in her face. It was a crumpled piece of paper. "Special fucking delivery," he spat under his breath.

Charlie gingerly took the paper from Angel, and she momentarily watched as his hand listlessly dropped away. She started unraveling the paper ball, until she could see words written in all too familiar handwriting.

Her hand flew to her face as she felt a silent gasp painfully clenching her throat.

Angel glanced at her, and seeing her expression seemed to break him. He instantly crossed his arms tighter around his chest as he quickly walked away. "Not like it matters anyway," he muttered. "People come and go all the damn time. And this place is supposed to be temporary anyway, right? Not like anybody's supposed to stay here forever."

Charlie tore her eyes away from the paper to pinch the bridge of her nose, trying to stop the tears. "A-Angel-"

"So fuck it! It is what it is!" He walked out of sight, his strained voice echoing off the walls.

With the hand that held the paper, she pressed the back of her hand to her forehead as a sob escaped her. Then, she neatly folded the paper, put in her pocket, and reentered her bedroom. She closed the door behind her, leaned her back against it, and slid to the floor. She buried her face in her palms as tears slid down her cheeks.

She vaguely heard the rustling of bed sheets and then feet padding across the wooden floor towards her. She only responded when she heard his tentative voice. "Charlie?"

She looked up at Alastor to see the creases between his brows, his telltale sign that he was concerned.

She sniffled, and opened her mouth after she failed to draw in air through her nose. "V…" She paused as another sob escaped her. "Vaggie left."

Interestingly, his brows relaxed. But his smile remained the same, small and uncertain. He walked closer to her and held out his hand. She shook her head, not taking it. He tilted his head slightly. Then, he bent down and abruptly scooped her into his arms.

"As nice as your floor is, my dear, hardwood is hardly comfortable," he remarked calmly as he carried her to her bed.

He placed Charlie onto the mattress, and sat beside her. He brought the comforter around her, and himself in turn, as she leaned herself against him. She buried her face in the comforter, and cried.

Alastor wasn't quite sure what to do, other than knowing that she needed to let it all out. So, he sat there with her, his one arm wrapped around her as his hand rubbed her back in awkward strokes that he hoped were soothing.

The minutes ticked by as Charlie let out her anguish, until her sobs eventually ebbed and the only thing left from her was shallow, exhausted breathing. His ever-present smile was shaky as he bent his head slightly to whisper in her ear. "My dearest darling Charlie," he murmured. "Talk to me."

"I'm gonna miss her," she said, her strained voice muffled against the comforter. "So much."

"Did she tell you in that note where she was going?"

Charlie nodded once.

He tilted his head, a little confused. "Then you can visit her any time."

"I know. But…We haven't been apart for years. And now suddenly…She's gone." Another sob, a silent one, shook her shoulders once. "I mean, yeah, I can v-visit her, but…God, why would she _wanna_ be visited by me?"

She lifted her head up. Alastor couldn't help but wince at seeing how wet and red and irritated her face was. He clicked his fingers, making his coat appear in his hand and using that to brush away the tears on her face. Charlie was stoic for the most part, not reacting to him doing that. In fact, she wore more of a confused look than anything. With her face dried, he let his coat fade away to rejoin his shoes in the closet.

"And…Rosie's Emporium," she mused. "Why there? From what I've heard, Rosie is pretty…overbearing." Normally, in any other situation, Alastor would've chuckled or snorted at Charlie's attempt at choosing the most polite word to use. But not now. "I didn't think Vaggie would be friends with her, let alone stand someone like that."

"That's because she isn't friends with her," he replied smoothly with a shrug. "I suggested Rosie to her."

Charlie snapped her gaze to him in astonishment. "Really?...You? But…You don't even like her."

"Why, that's not true at all. Rosie and I have shared a sort of camaraderie for many decades now-"

Charlie shook her head. "No, I mean you and Vaggie. You two have hated each other since day one."

Alastor laughed at that. "Well, now. Yes, it is quite obvious that Vaggie would rather see me rot…especially in light of certain circumstances. But I don't hate her."

Charlie raised a brow at him. "You don't?"

"Of course not," he confirmed. "I definitely don't hold her in high regard, not one little bit. But I do hold…some respect for her, for lack of a better word. There aren't too many miserable souls down here who dare to actively insult me as if it were part of one's daily routine."

To Alastor's relief, that garnered a light snort from Charlie, albeit an empty one.

She cleared her throat a little. "So, uh," she began. "Why did you help her?"

"She needed to make sure she had a place to stay so that she could inform you."

Charlie blinked. "Th-that's your reason," she breathed.

"Yes," he replied firmly. He cupped the side of her face. "I respect Vaggie, but I'm not fond of her in the slightest. However, you don't share that same opinion. You still care for her." He paused, his smile almost forming into a grimace. "I…still don't quite know what to do when you're like this. And I knew that once she left you'd be nearly inconsolable. I was hoping that you knowing where she was would…lighten things on your end. Though, I can see that is not the case."

Charlie gave him a small watery smile. "It…I…I don't really know what to think. I wish that Vaggie hadn't felt the need to leave. God, why did she-" She cut herself off to shake her head. "No, I know why. That's not what I'm getting at. I…I just…wish she hadn't, and that we coulda somehow worked this out. But…"

She sniffled and another sob escaped her. "But what would there be to work out," she whispered, staring at nothing in particular.

Alastor opened his mouth, but no sound came out. So, he continued to stroke her back, first in long lines, then in small circles. Charlie's body was still pressed against his side, and she pressed against him even more when she felt the movements of his hand.

"Why am I always crying around you," she asked vaguely, not really seeking an answer.

Alastor mustered a chuckle. "At least it's not because of me. I take comfort in that."

Charlie nodded. "Speaking of comfort." She awkwardly strained her hand behind herself to touch Alastor's, where it halted against her back at her sudden touch. She simply stroked over his knuckles once. "This is nice," she said as she took her hand away. "This is enough. Comfort-wise, I mean."

She didn't see his harsh scowl, but she could almost hear it in his voice. "Not to me, it's not," he muttered.

Charlie didn't respond to that, but she was glad when he resumed his stroking, seemingly enjoying this gesture just as much as she was even though he didn't think it was enough for some reason.

"Thank you," she murmured. "For…making sure that Vaggie had somewhere safe to go."

Alastor didn't respond to that, because he really don't know how. He only tightened his grip around her waist. After a few more minutes, and after Charlie's breathing had evened out into something sleepy, he slid their bodies until they were both lying down.

\-------

_This note is mostly for Charlie, but I also want Angel Dust to read it._

_I don't even know where to fucking begin. But, hey, you wanted my honesty._

_These last few weeks since we broke up have been so fucking painful. Aside from the fact that I haven't wanted to talk to or see anyone (Okay fine. You're the exception Angel) I also haven't wanted to see you, Charlie. It's just a constant reminder of…God, I don't know. And now you're dating that shitlord!_

_But…Do whatever you want._

_That's one of the reasons why I will always love you. You always did whatever you thought was right, no matter how many naysayers got in your face. And you thought me staying in the Hotel would be right. Why the fuck can't I fault you for that?_

_Do what you need to. Live your life however you need to. I ~~can't shouldn't~~ I couldn't live with myself if I stood in the way of it all._

_I love you so much. And looking back on it…Did I ever even say that to your face?! Jesus, I'm_

_Anyway, I've got a place to stay. Rosie's Emporium. I wonder what happened to her coworker Franklin. Kinda scared to find out, given how eerie Rosie always seemed to me. And I'm also putting my cell phone number at the bottom, in case you need it, even though you already have it and all that crap._

_But seriously, call that number and I'll come running. Especially if the ~~Radio De~~ Alastor ever gets out of hand. Seriously. He fucks up in any way… Well, he already knows._

_And Angel. Thanks. I didn't know I needed another friend._

_Stay safe. Both of you._

_Oh, one last thing._

_I hope your dream works._


	23. Challenge

When Alastor slept, he often slept deeply. Only for a few hours though.

He'd been an early-to-bed-early-to-rise sort of person for as long as he could remember. This was advantageous considering how early his radio show started. And then he added a new occupation alongside it all.

Books, music, food, the bustling streets of New Orleans, his radio show. All of it was very entertaining and he would never stop enjoying those activities. But that's all they were…Activites. Hobbies. So, he realized very quickly that simply doing something to pass the time just wasn't enough.

He wanted to be challenged, as well.

His radio show filled that void during his first year of doing it. He was raised to be a calm and respectful gentleman. Talking loudly and acting boisterously enthusiastic wasn't something that he was used to. Nor was it something that he realized he craved. When he saw an ad for the need of a radio show assistant, he was surprised out how quickly he jumped at the opportunity. He was equally surprised at how naturally it came to him.

What started off as assisting the already-existing host with the show, turned into him taking it over completely. And what fun it was! It took nothing for him to be able to control all of it. All he had to do was manipulate his voice, and then for the town to become putty in his hands.

He was social only when he wanted to be, but now even more so. People would pass by him on the streets and rave about his most recent show, vehemently saying that they couldn't wait for the next one. Radio, in that moment of time, had become one of his biggest passions. He couldn't put a price on the thrill of infamy and being able to manipulate the masses.

…Until that thrill wore off.

Don't get him wrong, he would always adore his radio show and he would never stop if it were up to him. He'd enjoyed practicing the inflections in his voice and the charisma in his tones. It took a year to perfect it all, due to their radio station not having that many listeners, resulting in infrequent schedules. Once Alastor took over, it only took a matter of weeks for people to start listening. Then, by half a year's time, the owners of the radio station gave him more and more slots on the schedule. By the end of the year, Alastor's radio show was the only one talked about in New Orleans.

But where was the challenge now?

The thrill was still…sort of there, he supposed. But now there was no spice to it, no zeal of accomplishment. He needed something else.

Due to the popularity of his radio shows, he'd often come home much later past his usual bedtime, having been spending more of his time at the radio station. He had nothing else to do, so why waste his time on sleep. His routine when he got home was always the same: He'd cook up some meat he'd gotten from his local butcher, read the paper as he ate, wash up, and then head to bed.

With the newspaper, he'd read the obituaries first. It was a close-knit town and he wanted to be updated on who all was no longer kicking. Then, he would read the front page, and then decide whether the rest of the pages were worth his time.

One night, he skipped the obituaries entirely to focus on the main article. Local murders and deaths weren't abnormal really, especially because Alastor knew just how incompetent their soft-hearted law enforcers were, but this particular murder caught his eye.

He'd always enjoyed reading these types of articles. It was like reading a thrilling adventure novel or a murder mystery, and he'd let himself get engrossed in the plot. He enjoyed this particular one even more so because it involved the butcher.

Alastor snorted as he read through it. The narrative solemnly talked about how the beloved local butcher, with the highest quality meats, met a tragic end at the hands of a woman who'd sloppily stabbed him multiple times, and who happily pleaded guilty.

Alastor laughed as he reread it, but clacked his tongue disapprovingly by the time he was done. That man had always been sleazy and had absolutely not class. The way Alastor saw it, he had it coming, and the world certainly wouldn't be at a loss. But what he thought was shoddy was the overall execution.

He laughed again, rolled his eyes, and put the newspaper in a trash bin. As he headed for bed, he couldn't help but continue to think about how clumsy it all seemed. Why, he could do a much better job if you asked him!

…And he decided to do so.

Just like how being a radio show host came naturally to him, so did being a murderer. He no longer spent long nights at the station. He would leave work just before dark, play with his latest victim, and go to bed at around midnight. Gone were the days where he'd go to bed at a reasonable time. And gone were the days where his hometown could sleep peacefully. There was now a serial killer on the loose.

Alastor had found his thrill once more.

Sleep seemed even more insignificant now. He'd go to bed late, and then wake up as early as usual to start his day all over again, eagerly anticipating the night. He'd never known a time where he'd slept in. And for a long time, he never knew of something that could thrill him or challenge him more than the art of killing.

\-------

Alastor shifted as he stirred awake. He could feel Hell's dim morning light against his eyelids. He huffed irritably through his nose.

He'd slept in.

How?

He didn't even know he was capable of that!

As he shifted, he was reminded that his arms were wrapped around something warm, to which he involuntarily tightened his hold on. No, not some _thing_. Some _one_.

As irritated as he was at waking up late, he couldn't help but press her back flush against his chest. Giving in to a lazy and content feeling that unexpectedly washed over him, he pressed his face into hair against her shoulder.

Despite her being born here, the scent of blood, decay, and chaos didn't cling to her like it did the rest of Hell. In fact, he smelled…nothing. She smelled like nothing. Not even a hint of fire or smoke, as he recalled from when she'd first spent the night in his bedroom. As odd as that was, he found it incredibly refreshing. He buried his face deeper.

He should be getting up. He should be encouraging Charlie to get up as well, so that they could both get to work and start their day. He should _want_ to get up and do something to fill the usual pre-day boredom.

Aside from the fact that he was feeling far too lazy to move, he also didn't feel bored. He hadn't felt bored since meeting Charlie. Why was she the cause of all this? Why did the act of nuzzling her like a love-struck fool seem to fill whatever void he'd had? Why did he crave it? Would it last? He sighed tensely against her. Most of his usual thrills never did. Not unless there was a challenge alongside it, something to keep his attention.

But Charlie didn't challenge him…

…Did she?

He tilted his head, his cheek brushing the pillow. He couldn't recall ever feeling challenged by her. Thrilled, yes. But not challenged. Nevertheless! He was in love with Charlie and wanted nothing more than her company. Would these enamored feelings pass if he didn't find a challenge and soon?

As Charlie shifted and hummed contentedly…He desperately hoped not.

"I didn't mean to wake you, dearest," he murmured, loosening his grip so she could turn around in his arms. "I would suggest you should go back to sleep, but I'm afraid we've both slept in too long."

"Yeah," she grunted around a yawn. "We probably should," she sighed as she rubbed her bleary eyes with one hand and attempted to tame her messy hair with the other, all the while her smile a silent 'good morning'.

He leaned in, and smiled as well against her lips. He was getting better at initiating physical affections, if he did say so himself! Charlie always responded to his clumsy, hesitant efforts with an odd sort of calm enthusiasm that he absolutely welcomed and appreciated.

When they pulled back, Charlie broke down the plan for today. All renovations. The first one was simple, some minor changes to the living room.

A former yoga instructor had recently joined the Hotel, and she was more than happy to do classes and sessions with the other residents. Yoga had just started to become popular in the United States when Alastor was alive, so he had a rough idea of what was needed. He set up that area, conjuring a few supplies, while Charlie rearranged the movie area of the living room to accommodate more seating.

After that, they moved on to the dining hall.

"No longer satisfied with the common areas," Alastor asked curiously as he watched Charlie lean contemplatively against a wall. "I enjoy them. They have such a homely feel to them."

"Exactly," she nodded. "Whereas this-" She paused to gesture vaguely at the imposing table and ornate chairs. "-doesn't. We're running out of space in the common areas for when people eat. I want to make this one big common area. I want to make it feel welcoming."

Suddenly, she gave an awkward little giggle. "Wow, I feel stupid. I've been wondering for weeks now how to make this more welcoming. How can I transform it into something cozy like the common areas? And, well…I guess that's my answer. We'll get some couches, some comfy chairs, some low tables, and…yeah! I think that'll work!"

Alastor flexed and stretched his hands as he smirked mischievously at her. "Of course it will. Isn't that why you hired me? To bounce ideas off of someone? Thank goodness you asked me to help, my dear!"

Charlie snorted and rolled her eyes. "Right. I _asked_ you to help. That's _definitely_ what happened. You didn't barge in or anything callous like that."

He laughed, his smile growing. "Me? Callous? Perish the thought!" She laughed with him.

Once Alastor had made the table and chairs disappear, he conjured the furniture Charlie deemed appropriate and helped each other move things around.

"A plus that I just thought of," Charlie mused as they positioned another couch. She nodded to a set of doors. "The kitchen is right over there. Nobody'll have to walk as far anymore to get food."

She exhaled as she looked at the remaining furniture they needed to move, and then looked at the rest of the room. "I'm really happy we're doing this," she said as she went to retrieve a small end table. "I've never liked this room. I always felt stifled in here. Every time my parents would want us to eat in here, I would take my food someplace else to eat it. It's great turning it into something we'd actually want to use."

Alastor tilted his head, immediately interested. "You used to live here?"

"When my parents had many different homes," she answered. "There was a time where they liked bouncing between one ostentatious mansion to the next. They thought it made them feel important, or something arrogant like that. Now, they just stick to the one mansion, leaving the others to fall apart."

He didn't take his gaze off her as he said, "You've been talking about them more often."

Charlie didn't say anything for a few long moments. Then, she shrugged. "I guess."

Her tone was neutral, but not forced. She was simply focused on the task at hand, and currently considered her parents to be a fleeting thought. Alastor pursed his lips, thinking carefully before deciding to just ask what he wanted to. "Tell me about them."

Charlie stopped what she was doing altogether. He opened his mouth, ready to say that it also wasn't necessary for her to do so, but he stopped himself when she calmly sat down. She nodded once at him. Taking the silent invitation, he sat down next to her on the couch. He serenely placed his hands on his knee, patiently listening.

Charlie inhaled, then exhaled evenly. "I had a better understanding of my mom than with my dad. She was – I don't know – pretty overbearing, I guess. She was a woman who always thought she could bend the universe in her hand. Not because she was arrogant, but because she genuinely thought she could. And also because you couldn't tell her what to do. No one could, not even dad. Mom and I understood each other to some extent. She's really independent, and I think she might've sensed that I was…gonna be as well…From them, that is." She grimaced harshly. "Detached, I guess," she muttered.

She then shook her head and groaned bitterly. "And dad…God, we never saw eye to eye. Not once! Everything was his way or the highway…When mom wasn't the one in control, that is. The sad part? He never knew when he was being a jerk. He was arrogant and vain and he didn't care about others."

She sighed, something reluctant passing over her facial features. "But I also take after him the most. I got my mom's bit of independence, but my dad… He was really theatrical. He always liked to make a big scene, but only if he enjoyed himself in the process. Otherwise, he wouldn't even bother. He introduced me to all kinds of music and dance. And…"

She swallowed, a lump beginning to form in her throat. "And whenever I wanted to learn about something new, he'd immediately drop what he was doing to teach me…Um, while boasting about how good he was at whatever I needed help learning. But still. He even taught me angelic languages alongside the demonic ones. Mom's been a demon way longer than him, but even she never bothered teaching me her own language."

Charlie finally turned her attention off the wall to give Alastor a small smile. "What about you," she asked. "You said you knew French, right?"

"I did, yes," he nodded. "It came with my heritage, so to speak."

"I tried learning French," she said. "I can't get the whole 'feminine' and 'masculine' parts right, though."

He laughed. "Oh, I'm not surprised. Most consider it to be a convoluted language to begin with. I think that's why I enjoy it. The bewilderment on peoples' faces as they try to articulate it!"

Charlie leaned further against the seatback, chuckling with him. Then, she curled her knees to her chest. "I love them," she muttered. "I...I'm okay now, I think. And I know I don't need them. I don't know why I still love them, but…I do."

Not knowing what else to do or say, Alastor carefully extracted both of Charlie's hands – both of which had been grasping tensely against her pant leg – and he clasped his fingers over her skin, encouraging her to hold something else. And she did, instantly lacing her fingers through his.

After a few minutes of waiting for the somber silence to become more peaceful, Charlie calmly stood up, informing Alastor that the mudroom was next.

When they arrived there, with a click of his fingers, all of the mudroom's contents disappeared, save for all of the shelving. The solid walls and ceiling turned into clear glass. Charlie was envisioning this room to now be a greenhouse. Nothing was capable of growing in the grounds of Hell, so a greenhouse would be the next best thing.

Alastor highly doubted they would still be able to grow anything. Hell was a wasteland. Nothing was supposed grow or bloom here. He brought this up to Charlie, who half-agreed, but still wanted to try. He nodded, and before Charlie could stop him, had conjured some gardening supplies.

Seeing the oddly frozen expression on Charlie's face, an expression he couldn't make sense of, he slowly lowered his hand. "What is it," he asked. "Do we not have need for supplies right now?" He confusedly raised his fingers again, ready to snap them to make them disappear.

"No," Charlie shook her head. "I mean…Well…" With a slight huff, she rubbed one of her hands up and down her arm, both contemplatively and appearing troubled at the same time. "No," she shook her head again. "This is-This is fine. We needed the supplies for this, so...Yeah."

Alastor nearly frowned as he watched her hand on her arm. "There's still a problem, though."

"It wasn't a problem. I was just gonna suggest that I go…buy the supplies somewhere, but, um…" She suddenly showed him something he immediately despised. A forced-looking smile. "This is great actually," she said, and at least it was her voice that sounded genuine. "We'll definitely put all of it to good use. Thanks, Al."

Before she could walk past him to get a closer look at the supplies, he stopped her by placing his hands firmly on her shoulders. "Charlie," he said. "What's wrong?"

Her smile instantly faded, resigned. She frowned deeply. "It's nothing…necessarily bad, but I do need to address it. And I know I'm being vague, but…" She took his hands off her shoulders to hold them in her own. "I'll talk to you about soon. Actually, I need to talk about it with the other employees, as well. Please be patient, okay?" She gave an empty chuckle. "I've just never had to deal with something like this before."

He nodded respectfully, but wasn't quite satisfied. "Just…don't ever force yourself to smile like that again, please." He leaned down and kissed the corner of her mouth, feeling it curve involuntarily upward as he did so. "It doesn't suit you, my dearest." He pulled back, happy to see a small but now genuine smile returning to her features.

She answered him by kissing him fully on the lips. Alastor hummed blissfully, prying his fingers off of hers to wrap around her waist. After many breathless seconds, they finally separated. They wanted to get a move on with the new greenhouse so that they could call it a day.

Charlie was surprised. Whenever they were moving the furniture in the living room and the dining hall – now dubbed the main common area – he used his magic to take care of most of it. Now, in the greenhouse, he was doing everything by hand. He prepped some soil by placing it in little pots, and then proceeded to organize them. He put some in direct light and some in the shadows. He had also varied the amount of soil each pot had, with some having a lot, and others a tiny amount.

"I…" Charlie began, making Alastor turn to look at her. "Well, I…didn't take you for a gardener."

He nodded once, and got back to work. "My mother taught me. She firmly believed that one should grow their own cooking ingredients."

Charlie tilted her head. "What about your parents?"

His movements froze, including the smile on his face. Slowly, his mouth opened, then closed, then opened again. "What about them?"

"Can you…tell me about them?"

Alastor, who was always happy to have a conversation with Charlie, donned a smile that was hard, almost tense.

Charlie winced. "N-never mind," she said. "We don't have to talk about them if you don't want to."

He was about to shamefully stutter some form of prideful answer to that, until he finally looked at her. She had gone back to her part of the job, shifting the shelves around and organizing for a supply area. At the same time, she wasn't deliberately ignoring him, judging by the way she occasionally faced him. She had simply dropped the matter entirely. Without question, and without a second thought.

Without prying.

Without cornering him.

He stopped what he was doing and leaned back against the shelf behind him. "Mother was a wonderful person," he began, causing Charlie to stop. She silently set down the shelf panel and gave him her full attention. He swallowed harshly, audibly. He had to keep his tone neutral and stoic, lest he let his emotions overflow. "She was the kind of person everyone in the world wanted to be friends with. Caring, giving, self-sufficient, social, but none to be trifled with. There were those that would try to take advantage of her, and those same worthless individuals were quick to learn that she was by no means weak."

He paused. "I don't know which parent I take after. I can only hope it's her, though." He grimaced. "My father was something of an enigma. Mother never spoke in depth of him, and at first I thought it was due to some sort of resentment or bad experience. And perhaps it could've been, but she always spoke so calmly, as if he was never a big part of our lives to begin with. As if he never existed."

As he spoke, the shelf behind him creaked, his clenched fingers gauging into the wood. "Fathers were supposed to be the ones to teach their sons everything. That role fell to mother, and she didn't bat an eye."

He was staring at the ground by this point, with absolutely no expression on his face. He couldn't see Charlie, but he could hear her. And he could hear her walking closer, until her shoes came into view. The shelf protested louder as he clenched harder, with splinters stabbing painfully into his fingers and under his nails.

All at once, the tension released when Charlie's arms hesitantly wound themselves around his waist. And when she rested the side of her face on his chest, against his grotesque heart…

His fingers released the shelf and slid away to dangle at his sides. He said nothing, did nothing, didn't even breath. All he did was stand there, allowing Charlie to do what she thought was needed. What _he_ needed.

"I can tell how much you loved her," she murmured against him. "You let me know if there's anything I can do…Okay?"

The damned lump in his throat that he'd been forcefully trying to swallow down finally faded. He could still feel its remnants, its pain, but he welcomed what Charlie was trying to do, he welcomed whatever magic she was using on him. Going over the words she'd just said, he could hear that she didn't have a solution, and that was fine. More than fine. More than he could ask for.

Rather weakly, he wound his arms around her. "This…This is enough, my dearest."

Charlie only nodded against his chest.

They stood there, silently, until evening shadows loomed around them. They were both tired, knowing that the need to rest was approaching, but they needed to finish the greenhouse, or at least get it ready to make it usable.

They eventually began making small talk. They talked more about the languages they knew, and they taught each other how to say a few sentences and words in them. 

Charlie talked briefly about her life. She talked a little bit about her schooling and her rivalry there with another royal. He gave her an encouraging and proud smile when she hesitantly mentioned she'd gotten into a brawl with said rival. And on the day of their prom, no less!

Alastor talked about New Orleans, his radio show, eventually moving on to how macabre he made his life. He expected Charlie to be disgusted by how detailed his words had become, so he discreetly left out how he died. Yes, Charlie most certainly disapproved of his escapades, but she listened intently, asking questions here and there, never afraid to give her opinions.

Once again, her dislike for such a thing was very apparent, but she'd already known he was a serial killer long before he'd ever even met her. And she lived in Hell. She had such an upbeat and kind personality that Alastor often forgot that she herself was born in one of the most deplorable places. It made sense that she could run a redemption hotel. Only she could absorb the knowledge of anyone's sins and take it in stride.

"You know," she said, her questions getting bolder. "There's something I've been meaning to ask you. So…What happened between you and Niffty and Husk? Why did you have to make deals with them?"

No one had ever asked him the details of any of his deals. They were always too afraid to delve into something like that. Hear no evil, see no evil, and all that. Demons often stayed out of the affairs of others, unless they had something to gain themselves. Charlie, however, had something that not a lot of demons had, and that was curiosity. Curiosity that was genuine, with no ulterior motives.

A wide smile spread across his face. He never even liked the thought of discussing his deals with others, as it was always a private matter for his "clients". With Charlie, though, he could definitely make an exception.

This would be a first for him.

His heart thudded a little in his chest. A familiar feeling of thrill of doing something he's never done before.

It was definitely safe and delightful to say that Charlie did challenge him.


	24. What's in a Name?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * Note: Some of you will think that there's a Supernatural reference in this chapter, and there isn't. Supernatural just so happened to popularize this kind of thing.

What started off as a family joke might as well have been a premonition of Husk's future.

It wasn't his given name, but everyone called him Husk, even during childhood. The definition of 'husk' was that of a shell, cold and empty. Husk, though, was anything but. He definitely wasn't the life of the party by any means, but he did always enjoy being social and having a good time. And when your family owned a casino, having a good time often included gambling and drinking.

Unfortunately, by age eighteen, it was no longer unusual to see Husk clutching a booze bottle.

He didn't know why drinking came easy to him. He had everything! He was an heir to a successful family business, had made friends with the many patrons, and _heck_ he even finished high school and could move onto college if he wanted to. Not many people his age and at that time period would ever experience those kinds of opportunities, all of which he was thankful for. He really was.

But it was his heart that was missing from the equation, and he didn't know why. His family and friends and all of the casino patrons were wonderful. And it wasn't as if he was lacking a purpose given that the casino provided that. So, why on earth did he always feel…empty?

On a particularly unlucky day, Husk's personal stash of alcohol that he kept behind the main counter had finally run dry. The manager who was running the bar that day held his ground, eyeing Husk both stubbornly and with barely-concealed pity. Husk, who was only a little tipsy at that point in the evening, halfheartedly tried to coax him into pouring out something for him, but he wasn't stupid. Husk had a hunch that his parents ordered the manager to never give him anything that wasn't from his own stash. If he ran out and wanted more, he'd have to get it elsewhere.

Husk was no stranger to buying his own booze, but he was also a lazy son of a bitch. Why go to any other distributor when he was destined to own a business that always had the drinks flowing?

With a huff and a curse directed at the manager, Husk gave an awkward wobble as he abruptly turned away and headed for the casino's showroom. He needed a distraction from that damned hollow feeling, and if alcohol wasn't available to soothe it, then the gimmicky performer his parents hired for the night would have to do.

He hated magic shows. Flashy, fake, and unpredictable, they didn't hold his attention for long at all. But he sank down in a leather chair anyway, banging his elbow as he placed it on the table in front of him and slumped his chin in his hand. The show was already halfway through, with the magician now currently on some boring card tricks. However, things took a not-so-boring turn very quickly.

The cards burst into flames, causing the audience to jump excitedly in their seats. Husk was about to scoff at the ridiculousness of it all when the sound of glass shattering caught his attention. A woman a couple seats down from him had been so engrossed in the show that she'd dropped her glass of red wine. When it hit the carpeted floor, the glass shattered and splattered wine everywhere at the same time.

The woman was beside herself, glancing rapidly and embarrassedly between the floor and the select few individuals who saw this and laughed drunkenly at her. Desperately, she grabbed a fistful of cocktail napkins and began dabbing hopelessly at her dress and at any remaining alcohol from her skin. She was clearly flustered, and her once pristine dress was now ruined…

And Husk had never seen anyone more beautiful in his entire, inebriated life.

With the mindset that a patron of the casino needed assistance, he decided to pluck up the courage to leave his table. Shouldn't be too difficult for him, given his social nature. So why was it, by the time he got over there, that his mouth had suddenly become as dry as the Mojave Desert?

He stopped in front of the woman, and cleared his throat. Not to get the woman's attention, but because he needed his vocal chords to cooperate in order to form some words, for Pete's sake!

By the time he was ready, the woman realized she had an audience. She stopped dabbing at her dress to grimace sharply at Husk.

"I'm not interested in anymore gawking from anyone," she huffed. "My night's already ruined. I don't need anyone making it worse, especially from some tipsy barcat."

"Yeah," Husk muttered dazedly. Then, he shook his head so quickly his neck cracked. "No, no! I mean, uh…That ain't why I came over."

She raised a brow. "Then why did you?"

Husk glanced around rapidly, as if he would eventually locate the correct words if he did so. _Come on, you dumbass,_ he thought tensely. _All you gotta do is welcome her to the fucking casino. That's all! Just like you do with everyone else. That ain't so fucking difficult!_

He jabbed a finger in the direction of the wine bottle on the table in front of her. "You enjoying the wine," he asked as he turned his attention back to her…and her stained dress.

She blinked incredulously at him. "Am I _what_?"

 _Shit, shit, shit!_ "Uh, w-wait," he stuttered. And he stuttered some more, grappling through his hazy mind for an apology and a proper introduction.

Until he saw a reluctant smile tugging at her lips. It grew wider, and eventually he heard a slight chuckle bubble from her. He half-smiled as well, a shaky one as he awkwardly rubbed the back of his neck.

"It, uh," he mumbled. "It ain't meant to be a joke."

"I know," she exhaled, her smile never leaving. "I can tell by looking at your face." She glanced at the bottle. "If you must know, I _was_ enjoying the wine."

Encouraged by her lighter tone, he added, "Well, it's some top-shelf shit, so…"

"Oh, my dress definitely agrees with you," she chuckled again, glancing down at herself. "Tell me, is this how you charm all the ladies?"

The words tumbled out of his mouth before he could stop them. "Just you."

Something in her smile changed as she studied him closely. The semi-awkward, semi-flirtatious atmosphere was still there, but now with added warmth as they gazed endearingly at each other. They were reminded that their private moment actually wasn't so private when some other people noticed the woman's state and snickered at her.

Husk whipped around to glare at them. "You got something better to do," he snapped. "There's an attention-hogging clown on stage right now. Laugh at _him_!" Without any reluctance, and looking thoroughly chastised, those people immediately took their attention and focused it on the performance.

"Ugh," the woman muttered, continuing to look at her attire. "I should go home and clean up." She glanced at the magician. "And I really wanted to see the end of his performance."

"Why can't you?"

She stared at Husk with a sarcastic expression. "You are aware I've spilled wine all over myself, yes?"

He shrugged. "I'm around alcohol every day. It don't bother me."

Her lips perked up into a smile once more. She took another hopeful glance at the stage before focusing on Husk again. She tapped the chair beside her. "Do you want to join me," she asked. "I need someone to finish off this wine. I don't think I'll want any more of it."

"Nah," Husk grinned as he got two empty glasses from a nearby table. He sat down next to her and poured the wine. "Good wine should never go to waste."

She stared at the glass he was offering. She then placed her hand over his for a few purposeful moments before taking it. "And neither should the evening," she added before taking a sip.

Husk nodded. As she elegantly drank, he couldn't take his eyes off her for some reason. The red stains on her dress made it look pastel, and the cloche hat she wore had little dove feathers protruding out of it, with the feathers sticking in all directions from her previous fussing.

"That's, uh, a good hat to wear," he said. At her confused expression, he pointed to the stage. "You know, 'cause…magicians like doves and shit." He leaned back in his chair as he slapped a hand to his face. "I ain't good at this shit apparently," he muttered as he let his hand drop to his lap.

"How about we start again, then," she suggested. "I'm Ava."

Husk nodded instantly, extending his hand to her. "They call me Husk."

Giggling, a little dumbfounded, she shook his hand with a smirk.

He raised a brow at her. "What?"

She shook her head at him. "Offering me your hand as if I was a long-time friend of yours? Swearing in front of a lady? You definitely aren't conventional, are you?"

He scoffed. "People say all kinds of shit about me. We'll just add that one to the pile, I guess."

She scooted her chair closer to him as she went back to watching the stage. "I like it. It's different." She paused. "I like you."

"Give it a minute," was his immediate joking response, causing her to giggle again.

The void was gone. His heart beat soundly the entire evening. He found himself enjoying the show.

For the first time since he was a teenager, he felt sober.

\-------

The clock had just struck midnight.

Husk had just popped the cap off his third bottle that evening.

Even though he was beginning to feel light-headed, it wasn't his personal best and he would need a couple more glugs before he could even consider himself drunk.

He ran his hands over his face with a lethargic groan. He was hoping the alcohol would wake him up a little…And because he also needed to take the edge off immediately.

He was losing his mind. He felt so fucking helpless.

Just as he was bringing the rim to his lips, sharp coughing from upstairs made him halt. The hacking tapered off into heavy, painful wheezing, and Husk flinched at how it sounded. Suddenly, his lips came into contact with cold glass, and he realized that he was already in the involuntary process of taking a drink.

Before he even took a sip of this third one, he slammed it to the table. And before he even had his jacket on, he was out the front door.

To this day, Ava still joked that Husk wasn't conventional, and she was right. He didn't care about what he looked like, what other people thought of him, or what other people thought of his actions. He…actually didn't care about a lot of things by the time he'd started his drinking addiction.

He only cared about Ava.

He walked for quite a few seemingly aimless miles, until he got further into the countryside. The city faded behind him, until the only light for miles around was the full moon above his head. He arrived at a dirt-road intersection. When his footsteps stopped, everything was eerily quiet. A shiver raced down his spine at how still everything seemed, at how alone he felt.

He scratched the back of his neck as he paced for a while.

He remembered having a conversation with one of the casino's magicians. The magician offhandedly mentioned that he got his talents from a crossroads demon, and that they could be summoned to do one's bidding.

But now that Husk had finally arrived at a crossroads, he felt pretty ridiculous. Plain and simple. What was he supposed to do? How was he supposed to summon the damned thing? 

Husk knew that the magician had been joking, and that there probably was no such thing. However, Husk had tried everything for Ava. He'd gotten all the best books, contacted the most expensive and competent experts, and hadn't left her bedside for nearly a week now. He had tried everything!

Except this.

He opened his mouth wide and exhaled loudly. "Okay," he began vaguely, and raised his voice a little. "So, uh…Are there any demons fucking around tonight?"

The only answer he got was his own echo.

He grumbled irately and impatiently as he resumed pacing in circles over the intersection. "God, I feel stupid," he grumbled to himself. Then, he raised his voice again. "Alright, look! I ain't got time for any of this bullshit. If you demons are bored outa your skulls and want something to do, I got a job for you. But since I'm standing around here like a fucking idiot and clearly talking to thin air…" He trailed off, and he finally stopped pacing.

He stepped away from the crossroads and leaned his back against a tree. With a weak huff, he buried his face in his hands. "This is pointless," he muttered into his palms.

"Not hardly, my good friend! I'd say you accomplished your goal," a cheerfully distorted voice rang out, causing Husk to nearly leap out of his skin.

"Jesus Christ," Husk hollered as he all but plastered his back against the tree. Some sort of…thing was standing in the center of the crossroads!

From a distance, it looked like an ordinary human, but this wasn't the case. The man had small deer antlers protruding from his scalp, his skin was pale-grey, and there was a consistent background buzz surrounding him and laced with his voice. The only thing normal about him was his red and black dress suit, but even that looked striking to the eye.

Husk gulped. "The fuck are you?"

"I'm the demon you meant to summon, of course! Who may I ask am I serving?" The demon's smile, which seemed to be a permanent fixture on his face, widened as he leaned on some sort of microphone stand.

Husk shivered, not liking the smugness in his looks and tone. Begrudgingly, he shoved himself away from the tree. He straightened his back and squared his shoulders, sauntering towards the demon in what he hoped was an imposing manner. He tried not to falter when the demon simply raised a brow at him, and…Was that amusement in those red eyes?

Husk shook his head rapidly, trying to ignore the continuously growing unease in his gut. "Husk. They call me Husk." He stared cautiously at him. "You're supposed to do my bidding, right?"

The demon nodded. "As I've just stated."

"So you gotta do everything I tell you, right? No questions asked?"

Another serene nod.

Husk always enjoyed the simple pleasures in life. And while it was great to see the demon's blink of astonishment when he suddenly got in his face, his current goal wasn't to intimidate an all-powerful demon. Staring him dead in the eye, Husk snarled, "Cure. My. Fiance."

When the last word left his lips, Husk slammed his eyes shut and sucked in a shaky breath. "C-cure her…Please."

The demon stopped leaning on his microphone to straighten himself up a little, putting a couple inches of distance between them in the process. "Cure, you say."

Husk swallowed harshly, only opening his eyes again when he was sure his tears wouldn't make an appearance. He nodded once. "She's sick. Real sick."

To Husk's surprise, the demon finally broke his smug demeanor. The smile was still there, but the demon glanced away from him as he contemplatively scratched his chin with a curious hum.

Not liking the hesitancy, Husk continued. Maybe details were needed. "She's coughing all the time. Doctors ain't able to do nothing. The books are goddamn useless. Hell, she can't even breath anymore! She's fucking dying! And…And I can't stop it." He paused. "You can."

The demon looked at him sharply. "Oh? Can I?"

Husk's heart sank to the pit of his stomach…just as the demon's shoulders began shaking with laughter. A snarl erupted in the back of Husk's throat, and his hands curled into fists. He opened his mouth to shout all kinds of profanities at this heartless freak of nature when the demon began speaking again, and in an obnoxiously lively tone.

"Of course I can, my dear Husker," he exclaimed, while making Husk grimace at the use of his name. "I wouldn't be useful to you otherwise." He paused to hum thoughtfully again. "Can't say I've used a curse to cure an illness, but I'll gladly give it a go. What fun!"

Husk sneered at him. "I didn't say nothing about a curse. I said for you to-"

"And a curse is what you'll get," the demon interrupted firmly. "Unless, of course, you don't want my help. Just send me away. I've a surplus of already-damned souls to entertain myself with, thank you very much."

Husk shook his head stubbornly. "You ain't going nowhere until Ava ain't sick anymore. And you're gonna do that without cursing her."

"A curse is my final offer. Take it or leave it." At Husk's growl, he continued, twirling his microphone stand in a showy gesture. "Are you even aware of what you're asking of me? You want me to do something that your modern doctors aren't able to do. And I'm fully capable of doing so! But I fear there's a price.

"Magic and nature go hand-in-hand in order to function properly. A requirement of balance, if you will. Tip that balance, and it results in a curse." He suddenly laughed loudly. "Good thing I never cared too much for balance and stability! What's a little chaos, my dear friend?"

"I ain't your fucking friend," Husk growled. "Get to the goddamn point."

"You are asking me to bring someone from the brink of death." He raised a brow at Husk. "You are asking me to use my magic to go against nature. And you think there won't be consequences, hmm?"

Husk flexed his jaw and clenched it at the same time. "W…What kinda consequences?"

The demon shrugged. "Not sure. It all depends on the individuals involved and how high the stakes are."

"So…It may not even be that bad."

"Only time will tell," he responded with another shrug. "But if you wish to ignore such things to set your mind at ease, then who am I to stop you?"

Husk started pacing again, but much slower, all the while not taking his eyes off of him. He realized that that the longer he paced, the more the demon smiled, as if he knew what his decision was inevitably going to be.

And it _had_ to be inevitable.

"Fine," Husk snapped, stepping closer. "Fucking fine! We'll do it your way. Just…Just make her better."

"With pleasure," he said jovially. He made his microphone disappear. "Payment first, though."

Husk shot him a murderous glare. "There ain't no payment. You do what I say-"

"Regretfully there is," he calmly responded. "Everything costs something, and you're no exception simply because you summoned me. I require something from you."

Husk stared at him suspiciously. "What?"

"Your assistance. Nothing more, my good friend," the demon replied.

"With what?"

"Not sure yet. We'll discuss that matter upon your death. Now…" The demon held out his hand. A bright aura abruptly washed over them, flashing too rapidly to keep up with it. The wind whipped up, forcing the trees around them to thrash.

Amongst the cacophony was the demon's voice. "Do we have a deal?"

Without thinking, wanting the sudden chaos to end, and just wanting Ava to be alright again, he dug his nails into the demon's skin as he shook the offered hand. All at once, the chaos was over and everything died down.

"So, uh," Husk said as the demon released his hand. "Is that it? Did that do it?"

The demon held up a finger to instruct him to wait. Husk immediately reeled back in preparation for more magic when the demon raised his hand and loudly snapped his fingers. Only, no chaos came, not even a whisper of wind.

The demon dusted off his hands. "There," he said. "That should do it."

"I...It," Husk stammered hopefully. "S-so that's it, then? She's cured?"

He nodded. "In a day or so the illness shall pass. In a few days after, she should be up and about. You and your lover should have many happy years ahead of you now."

"Oh, uh, okay," Husk said, his mind going a mile a minute as he hurriedly looked in the direction of his apartment. "I-I gotta go, then. I gotta see it for myself." He briefly glared at the demon. "And to make sure you ain't screwing me over with your tricks."

The demon's smirk widened. "Smart one, aren't you? A bit too smart, though. I'm nothing if not a man of my word. I've no time to waste on lying."

"Pfft," he scoffed. "We'll see. So…How do I make you go away so you don't fuck with anyone else?"

When Husk looked back at the demon again, he found himself alone at the crossroads, as if the demon had never been there in the first place.

\-------

The days that followed went exactly as the demon had described. By the end of the week, Ava was wandering around their home and neighborhood, free of any sign of illness.

Over the next few years, it became yet another family joke. No matter how much they gambled, no matter how much they drank, no matter how many sicknesses they got, they could endure anything!

They could also joke about anything, including about how Ava had survived. Everyone in their circle had theories, getting more and more outrageous and humorous as the years went by. And every time someone made a joke about it, Ava always glanced at Husk. He always responded to that with an awkward smile.

He'd yet to tell her how it happened, and Ava was smart enough to know that Husk had a hand in it – metaphorical to her, but literal to him obviously. It wasn't that Husk was afraid to tell her, but how do you explain to someone that some trickster abomination that you summoned in the dead of night was the cause? With every passing year, though, that need for an explanation grew ever closer.

They'd never set a concrete date for their wedding. Husk had many inner demons to sort out, and that he wanted to be sure he had them under control by the time they'd wed. Ava was perfectly fine by this. God, that woman had the patience and understanding of a goddamn saint, in his opinion!

So much so that he wanted to reward that patience as well as to convey his appreciation for her. He needed to explain this. The week before their wedding, Husk found that he had one last inner demon to sort out.

He sat Ava down at their tiny dining room table in their tiny apartment, and he told her what happened at the crossroads. She'd been understanding of everything about him thus far, surely this was no exception.

Horror washed over Husk at seeing the utter disbelief on Ava's face. "You…did what?!"

Husk could only stutter, not knowing how to handle her sudden ire, an emotion that he'd never seen from her in all of the years he'd known her. "I-I just – You were sick-So sick! I w-was-"

"And you risked your life to confront a demon to do so?! Husk!"

"I don't give a shit what I'd have to risk," he said, much louder than intended. "I don't give a shit about me! I don't give a shit about that smug little shit at the fucking crossroads! All I give a shit about is you!"

"And that's what scares the hell out of me," Ava shouted back. It shut him up instantly. She didn't swear often. "Every time someone has hassled me, every time someone has ever even remotely threatened me, you don't hesitate to get in their face and start something with them!"

He looked at her incredulously. "It's my fucking job as your fiancé!"

"That's right. I wanted you to be my fiancé! I never asked you to be my knight in shining armor every five seconds."

"Why the hell did you want us to get married, then?!"

His words echoed around them before a long silence fell.

Husk was the first to break that silence. He needed to break it. "I…I…I don't know what to do without you."

Ava gave him an odd smile. It wasn't a happy one, though. "I…I know, Husk." She reached across the table and gave his hand a firm squeeze. Normally, he welcomed her touch, he welcomed everything about her. But her hand that he had held countless time throughout the years felt different all of a sudden. It felt cool to the touch instead of warm.

She released his hand and went to bed that night without word. By the end of that week, she'd left to build a life of her own.

The night that was supposed to be their wedding day, Husk sat in their – _his_ apartment. Thinking.

Things had been going so well since the incident at the crossroads. And now, years later, things had gone up in flames. Ava's reaction haunted his nightmares, that sudden switch in her usually calm demeanor. It wasn't like her. Why did she react that way? As Husk brought the bottle to his lips and took a gulp…Oh, he knew what the answer was.

That fucking demon. That good-for-nothing, deal-making trickster. He did this.

So, what was left for Husk to do?

Empty bottles and cans were strewn everywhere. He was determined to drink until he forgot, to drink until he felt nothing else.

To drink himself to death.

\-------

Husk wasn't like Niffty who had a set job in the Hotel. He often just did things that needed, well, doing.

Having said that, he did have a few things that needed consistently maintained, such as the concierge desk and his bar, and he also took it upon himself to check the mail every evening, but that was about it. Other than that, he did other things as needed and helped others out here and there. And then something recently got added to it all. Another job title.

Group Therapist.

The laugh that bellowed from him when Charlie seriously proposed this idea was downright hysterical. Who the hell would want to sit down and talk about their precious feelings to someone as negative, cynical, and harsh as him?

Well, that's what everybody inevitably did anyway. The residents of the Hotel frequently visited his bar to tell him their woes and worries, and damn his social nature for giving them all vague advice while doing so.

As of right now, it was only group therapy. Charlie eventually wanted to get private sessions rolling, but the reason why people went to his bar to vent was because it was an open area. Private sessions might make the residents feel trapped or cornered. With group therapy, it would feel less of an obligation to say or do a lot, and more of a motivation to just sit there and take it all in, like being at the bar.

Husk thought that Charlie's logic in that regard was sound enough…But still! Who would want to actually attend?

Well…Many residents actually.

On his first day of therapy, Husk had only two visitors – Sanderson and the yoga instructor. After that one singular day, he then averaged five to six visitors. It baffled Husk. All he did was get everybody to talk about things! And for some reason that mattered to everyone? And why did it matter to him? Why did he now enjoy getting out of bed every day? Why did he now dread it when he had down time without anything to do?

Why could he no longer feel the void in his heart that was supposed to be permanent?

As he walked the halls of the Hotel, he involuntarily silenced where his thoughts were going with that last question. He should just be counting his blessings that he didn't feel so fucking empty anymore and leave it at that.

"Morning, Husk," Niffty greeted cheerfully as they passed by each other.

"Morning, kid," he grunted. "Busy day today?"

"Mhm," she nodded. "Working on that window."

"What window?"

"The one that Steel and Sanderson ruined when they broke in."

Husk raised a brow. "That...was a couple months ago. And isn't the thing fixed already?"

Niffty nodded. "Yup. Anyway, you want me to clean the bar while I'm heading in that direction?"

He grimaced at her. "I take care of my own shit."

"Yeah, but you haven't been taking care of the bar lately. Have you see how much dust it's got?"

"It ain't got no-"

"And it's driving me crazy," she interrupted with a dramatic groan. "If you won't let me clean it, then _you_ need to. So, please do that? Today? Okay?"

Husk glared at her. "I take enough shit from Alastor. I don't need you bossing me around." Irately, he trudged past her. "Ain't nothing wrong with my bar."

He was also irate because that little exchange between them made him a few minutes late to therapy. The living room was what they currently used, but the room was supposed to be open to everyone at all times. The therapy sessions required them to shut the doors for added privacy during certain times of the week, so Charlie was currently in the process of picking out a different room.

When he finally arrived at the living room, five sinners were already there waiting. They all greeted him as Husk sat down.

"So," Husk cleared his throat. "Who's feeling shitty today?"

This was a running gag amongst the therapy-goers. Whenever a session started, they all expected some form of cynical or dark joke from their therapist. It was almost a requirement in order to start. Not only did it make everyone feel a little lighter, but for some reason it added a sense of validation. To know that everyone's situations were most definitely shitty and that Husk wasn't intent on making them feel wrong for thinking so. In fact, they were all pleased to learn that Husk wasn't interesting in changing anything. He only expected for them to talk, and that suited everyone just fine.

Was it a step towards redemption? Husk couldn't say. He wasn't an expert. All he knew was that they didn't mind talking with him every day. In turn, whether the sinners chose to acknowledge it or not, these sessions distracted them from doing the sinful things they normally did day by day. Husk supposed that that would have to do.

After the current therapy session was over and done with, he was walking back to his room when he passed Alastor.

"Good afternoon, my good friend," he greeted.

Husk glared at him. "I ain't your fucking…" He trailed off grumpily. "Eh, fuck it. You ain't worth my time and energy. The hell do you want?"

"How's group therapy," he asked, genuinely curious. "Charlie seems enthusiastic the idea is working."

He only shrugged noncommittally. "Everyone likes it, so…"

Alastor only hummed and nodded. "I'll relay that Charlie. She'll enjoy hearing that." As he began walking away, he added, "Oh, and do clean your bar, will you? The dust has become unsightly."

Husk snickered. "Niffty?"

Alastor looked back at him with a slightly annoyed expression. "She wouldn't stop pestering me about it. You know how she is." He paused. "Why is it dusty anyway? You've always kept it immaculate, and you're never too far from it anyway."

"I don't know," Husk grumbled as he crossed his arms. "Guess I been distracted with the new position and whatnot."

For some reason, Alastor raised an amused brow at him. "Could be. Could be," was his cryptic reply to that.

"The hell does that mean," Husk demanded.

Alastor rolled his eyes and continued on his way. "Clean off the bar. Do as your told."

Husk flipped him off. He wanted to go back to his room to relax and reflect on today's session, but no! He had orders from his douchebag of a boss.

"Fucking slave driver," he spat as he headed for the foyer. "I might as well be a dog instead of some mutated cat."

When he got to the foyer, he took a rag and a spray bottle. He gave the concierge desk a wipe down first, simply to pass the time. Then, he went over to his bar. He didn't even bother with the mineral oil. He simply took hold of the rag, dusted what needed to be dusted, and left it that.

By that point, the mail had arrived. He went outside and took the mail out of the box. He flipped through a couple bills, taking note that some of them had the word 'overdo' stamped on the front of them. He'd have to get those to Charlie ASAP obviously.

The last letter was a lot more eye-catching, though.

"Oh, shit," Husk grumbled as he read who'd sent it. "Ugh. Wonder how Charlie's gonna react to this one."


	25. Privacy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Warning:** Nudity, but not sexual.
> 
> I referenced _Casanova_ and _Dirty Dancing_ , I don't own either of these movies and I also haven't seen them honestly.

Irony was an interesting thing. Before the start of their relationship, they had all the time in the world with how empty the Hotel practically was. Now, Charlie was running ragged with hotel owner tasks.

Little by little, day by day, the Hotel was gaining more and more residents. There currently weren't that many, just under twenty, including Charlie, Alastor, and the other employees. But it was a start. More than a start. More than Charlie could've ever asked for.

Alastor had to agree. Even though he thought this idea of hers would never work, which he was blunt to her about in the beginning, he had to admit that things had taken a positive and…interesting turn.

Interesting, because of his role in the Hotel. His original purpose for joining the Hotel was to help keep it safe and to help make it a suitable, livable place for redemption seekers. He had ordered his shadows to guard the Hotel and he always helped with renovations, so what else was there for him to do?

Originally, to him, the title of 'co-owner' was only a title. It didn't really mean a whole lot to him considering he more or less let himself inside the Hotel and gave himself said title. He also didn't want to admit that Charlie was his equal at the time.

Now, he would gladly admit to that. However, he now had something else to admit to. And that was being Charlie's metaphorical other half. Romantically speaking, this thought was absolutely fine by him. Job-wise, though, it came as a bit of a surprise to him.

Everyone in Hell feared the infamous Radio Demon and made it a habit to avoid him. When word travelled that he had joined the Hotel, it sparked morbid curiosity. They couldn't understand why he was there. It became one of the main reasons why sinners wanted to investigate the Hotel, because those select sinners couldn't believe that someone as cruel and immoral as him would willingly be there.

Only to find out he very willingly joined…and had even fallen in love with the former Princess of Hell. One can imagine that the latter came as even more of a shock.

Though the new sinners joined the Hotel due to their curiosity, they also tried their best to avoid the Radio Demon at the same time. It was a ridiculous hypocrisy that made Alastor laugh amusedly.

His laughter eventually faded after a few weeks when everyone became used to his presence. It got to a point where no one had any trouble approaching him, too. Their fear of him, a fear that he'd been so used to ever since he'd arrived in Hell, had slowly gone away.

Eventually, no one in the Hotel was afraid of him anymore.

As a result, his role there had changed slightly. It used to be when one of the sinners needed help, they would go straight to Charlie. If they couldn't find her, but Alastor was around, they would make themselves scarce and find Charlie later. Now, it seemed to be very even. They would still ask for Charlie first, but once they all finally wrapped their heads around Alastor being co-owner and that he genuinely seemed to want to help the Hotel, they had no problem asking for him as well.

He...didn't know how felt about that. Not at all. He supposed he felt indifferent to this new type of attention. It should be noted that he also felt more and more thoroughly annoyed with every passing day. Annoyed that he and Charlie barely had any time to spend together these days. Obviously, Charlie couldn't be in two places at once. So wherever Charlie wasn't, Alastor was there.

Charlie had heaps of work on her plate each day now. Between taking note of other things that needed renovating, making lists of needed supplies, errands that needed to be run, bills to pay, and keeping documents updated, hands down she was far busier than Alastor. Whereas Alastor had plenty of days where he'd get done with his work hours before she did. Despite how chaotic things currently seemed, Charlie was unexpectedly a stickler for much-needed schedules.

She and Alastor eventually figured out the best times to take breaks throughout the day. One of their breaks was at one in the afternoon, a lunch break that they'd take in the privacy of Alastor's Study. They'd use this break to talk about anything and nothing in particular. Or sometimes they didn't say anything at all, sometimes they'd just eat lunch and hold each other in silence, both too tired, and also simply basking in each other's company.

Unfortunately, his and Charlie's usual meeting times were becoming erratic, and it got to a point where the only time they could have their meetings was at one in the afternoon, in his study, when they were supposed to be taking a break. It's not that he minded their meetings, but his study was not meant to be a place of work, but a place of leisure. On one particular day, Charlie didn't even show up to their break – er, meeting?

He waited in his study for nearly an hour. A long, slow, agonizing hour. He shook his head, pushed himself away from the old Chippendale sofa, and left his study to find her.

He knew that Charlie was being kept busy somewhere, and he wasn't interested in stopping her. He at least wanted to check in with her, though. He still had some time left before he needed to attend to his next task, and the least he could for his dearest lover was ask if she needed help with whatever was currently keeping her from him. He knew that Charlie was revisiting a requirement that needed addressed, and that was schedules.

Her and Alastor had finally come up with a more solid schedule for mealtimes – they had come up with it earlier this morning, right when they woke up, with very little time to say a simple 'good morning' to each other as they got ready for today's work – And they also had to come up with specific times to run errands so either of them could maintain a consistent presence in the Hotel. 

Throughout the rest of today, Charlie was going around to each of their employees to once again discuss specific times for them to do their jobs. This was not only to provide a sense of structure, but also to keep things organized.

Alastor found Charlie in the living room having a conversation with Angel Dust. The demon was carelessly leaning two of his many arms on the movie projector. Just as Angel was making some form of lewd joke about the movie they were watching tonight – he couldn't yet decide between _Casanova_ or _Dirty Dancing_ – Alastor smoothly stepped up beside Charlie and wound his arm around her waist.

"Good afternoon to you both," he exclaimed cheerfully. His smile softened when he looked at Charlie. "But to you especially." He pecked her on the cheek, causing her to giggle.

Angel rolled his eyes, but smirked jokingly. "Ugh, I'm getting outa here before I suffocate from all the corniness." As he began walking away, he added, "I'll leave you both to your canoodling."

When Angel left the living room, Alastor commented, "His mood seems to have improved lately."

"Yeah," Charlie nodded. "He's really enjoying being in charge of movie nights and game nights." She paused. "He still misses Vaggie, but he's been hanging out with Cherri a lot. They're trying to plan a girl's night out, and they want Vaggie to come along."

Alastor barked out a laugh. "I can't imagine Vaggie would want to waste her time with a ruffian like Cherri Bomb. Why, I'm just as surprised at how much she treats Angel Dust like a delinquent sibling."

"Believe me, that surprised me as well," Charlie chuckled. "…Not the delinquent part, but uh, the sibling part." Another pause. "Angel's trying to convince Cherri to join the Hotel. Apparently, she's gotten herself into a lot of tough spots recently, and it's been less and less safe for her."

Alastor nodded. "Not surprised, given her radical tendencies. Though, I can't see her wanting to join."

"That's what Angel said. She thinks this hotel is hilarious."

She ended the sentence with a slight sigh in her voice, making him quirk a brow at her. "Charlie?"

She shrugged. "Things have been going so well lately. We have more residents than I could've hope for, and…those residents really enjoy it here. Everyone does. When Angel brought up Cherri, I had to remind myself that…not everyone has the same opinion, or that many sinners still have a hard time wrapping their head around this kind of place."

She turned to full face him, a bright smile slowly lighting up her face. "But I'm hopeful. I'm hopeful this'll work. I'm _determined_ to make it work."

"As you should be!"

Charlie briefly chewed on her bottom lip as she looked in his eyes. "Do you still think my idea won't work?"

"Oh, Charlie," he laughed. "Of course I don't! But that's not news to you," he calmly added upon seeing a flash of dejection come across her face. He was glad he gave her that reminder, because the sour look was now being replaced with a neutral one. It wasn't a smile, but it would have to do.

"Do I now believe that these damned souls can be redeemed simply because we have more of them in the Hotel now? Goodness, no! After all, they're all in Hell for a reason, my dear." Charlie's eyes had been moving away from his to try and process his words. So, he took hold of her face and tilted it to encourage eye contact. When she finally looked at him again, he said, "But I'd be a liar if I denied the progress being made. And I'd also be a liar if I said I was surprised by everyone's enthusiasm to be here. That's all you. It doesn't take much for you to charm anyone, my dearest."

Charlie blushed and tried to modestly turn her head away, but his hands didn't budge. "I-It's not all me," she said. "Everyone, especially those that have been here since the beginning, have all been extremely helpful. I can't thank them enough…I can't thank _you_ enough. You've really helped get this place off the ground."

"I repeat," he grinned at her. "That's all you." For some reason, stating once again what was obvious made her blush even harder, and he laughed we she opted for just pressing her face into his chest to hide it. "I mean it, darling. The only thing I've done is help you with your ideas, ideas of which that _you_ came up with." He wrapped his arms around her. "I was all too happy to help."

A nice silence fell upon them. Charlie relaxed in his arms, with her face still pressed against his chest. Now that he had her in his arms again, he couldn't stop his grip from tightening around her. He rested his chin on her head, but then grimaced. For some reason, he wanted to be closer despite the fact that there currently wasn't any distance left between them. Unsure of how to accomplish being impossibly closer, he nuzzled his face against her hair and placed a few small kisses here and there.

"Al," Charlie asked as she tried to look at him. "Is everything okay?"

"Yes, I-" he said quickly, pulling back just enough so they could look at each other's faces. "Forgive me, it's just…I haven't seen much of you lately."

"Yeah," she exhaled. "I know what you mean." She draped her arms snugly around his neck. It was a constrictive feeling that he would've detested at some point early on, but nowadays he thoroughly enjoyed this gesture from her. He welcomed the silent subtlety of his lover wanting him to be just as close.

He pressed a final kiss to her hair. "I've missed you."

"I've missed you, too," she exhaled again.

He tilted his head concernedly when a frown appeared on her face.

"I'm sorry, by the way," she said. "I know I've been busy with everything. And, yeah, you also have been, but not as much as me. And I know I missed our break time today-"

He placed a finger on her lips to stop her rant. "You needn't apologize for anything. And despite how much I want you all to myself all the time, you needn't worry about me, either."

He tucked some hair behind her ear that had gotten mussed from when she had pressed herself against his chest. "You should absolutely see yourself, my dearest. You've been all but glowing with liveliness these past several weeks, and I can't even begin to fathom interrupting it. Not for a second."

Charlie was about to speak, but he kept going. "But what I would like from you is to make sure you're taking time for yourself in some way." He cupped her face once more and stroked his thumbs beneath her eyes, on top of the dark circles that had formed there. "I know this is your passion, but you're already exhausting yourself. I wish you would take more time to rest. Especially our break time."

Charlie's shoulders sagged a little. "You…You're right," she said, and Alastor moved his hands back to her waist so she could rub tiredly at her eyes. "I really have been running myself into the ground lately. I'm just so eager to move things along now."

"Nothing will be moving along, though, if you collapse from exhaustion, hmmm?"

She let out a single chuckle. "Guess not, no. Hmm," she murmured, becoming thoughtful. "Well…The only thing I really have left to do today is talk to Husk about his therapy session schedule, and maybe try to convince Niffty to have a schedule of her own. And then I should be done."

"Niffty already has a schedule," he said. "She gets up at around three in the morning, and then turns in somewhere around midnight."

Charlie's eyes nearly bugged out of her skull. "Okay, uh…I knew she got up early and went to bed late, but…Jesus, that's excessive. Okay, I really have to talk to her."

He laughed. "Good luck with that, my dearest. Getting Niffty to stop doing something is like trying to stop a charging bear. Nearly impossible while invoking her wrath. I'm the one who commands her and even I'm not foolish enough to try and stop her." He laughed again. "But anyway, you were saying…"

"I just have those few things to do, and then…nothing else," Charlie said. "I'll actually be done a lot earlier than normal."

Alastor nodded. "I take it you'll be attending movie night again?"

She shook her head. "Nah. You don't like movie nights, and…I was wondering if you and I could just hang out tonight."

His smile widened in anticipation. "That sounds lovely! Did you have anything particular in mind?"

"Not really. I thought we could just meet in my room later and relax?"

"I like the sound of that," he murmured, tightening his arms around her once more. "I'll finally have you all to myself for a while."

She smirked at him. "You have me all to yourself every time we got to bed."

"Yes, but that's when we're sleeping. And while I do enjoy holding you for all hours of the night, it's even better when we're both conscious, wouldn't you say?"

"Definitely." Her smirk had yet to leave her face. "Well, okay! It's a date, then!"

He tilted his head. "I've never been on a 'date' before. I'm looking forward to it!" He took a dramatic step away from her and bowed his head to kiss the back of her hand. When he looked up at her giggling face, he gave her his best debonair smile. "I shall see you tonight, then, my dearest."

Charlie closed the distance again by going on her tiptoes to place a kiss on his cheek. "See you tonight, Al."

\-------

After Charlie and Husk agreed upon a schedule as well as an appropriate room for the therapy sessions, she then moved on to find Niffty.

It took a lot of negotiating, and a lot of tantrums on Niffty's end, but the two of them finally decided which times Niffty would work that were definitely not as excessive as before. So, instead of Niffty getting up at three in the morning, she now got up at four. Instead of being done with her work at midnight, she was now done for the day at eleven-thirty at night. Oh, and she was also required to give herself some time off. So Niffty decided that one day off each year would suffice for now.

…It was an improvement. Not perfection. 

Charlie wanted to reason with her further, but after a few minutes she accepted that was all they were going to agree to today. Better than nothing, she supposed.

Just as planned for that evening, Charlie and Alastor met in her bedroom. After getting cleaned up and into some pajamas, they both lied down on her bed.

While Alastor read one of his books, Charlie leaned against his shoulder while scrolling through her phone. She didn't want to play any music or turn on her little TV and disturb Alastor, but she couldn't deny she was slightly bored. She wasn't used to laying around and doing nothing, and she was always so surprised when Alastor wanted to do so given how energetic he was.

At some point, her phone also became boring. She debated taking out her laptop, until a yawn surfaced. Now more tired instead of bored, she slid herself down. She stopped to rest her head in Alastor's lap. For a split second, he startled at that, but he quickly relaxed, only looking away from his book when he got to a particular part. He put the bookmark between the pages, closed it, set it aside, and looked down at her.

"Everything alright, dearest," he asked, beginning to trace his fingers over cheeks. He silently berated himself for being so clingy today, to a point where he wanted to touch her every chance he got, but he couldn't bring himself to stop. He enjoyed her company far too much to do so.

Charlie nodded slightly. "A little tired, but that's to be expected with all the running around I've done," she murmured, and yawned again.

"Would you like us to turn in early," he suggested.

"No, it's fine," she smiled. "I'm…kind of enjoying this right now. It's peaceful. It's hard for me to settle down, as you've probably noticed."

He gave a hum and nodded. He watched as his fingers were now travelling through her hair, feeling the soft blonde strands weaving over his skin. Not that he wanted to stop, but when exactly had his fingers ended up there? "Is there anything in particular you'd like to do with your free time tonight," he asked.

His heart gave a wonderful stutter when she looked up at him with a warm, soft smile. "Can I kiss you?"

Before she had even gotten the last word out, he eagerly obliged as he bent down to capture her lips. It was chaste and lasted a few wonderful seconds before he pulled back, but not too far, because he leaned in again. This time for one that lasted a little longer. And then another. And another, and another.

Eventually, Charlie was humming blissfully against these kisses, until she was propping herself up on her elbows so he wouldn't have to bend down as far. After a few decisive moments, Charlie boldly sat up completely, leaning into his body and into every kiss he indulged her with.

He exhaled, his mind also blissfully reeling as he pulled her flush against him. Experimentally, not knowing whether he'd done it before with her, he parted his lips against hers. With no resistance whatsoever, Charlie did so as well, and her fingers gripped the front of his nightshirt.

The room and his head were both spinning in the most invigorating and hypnotic way. He'd never kissed her like this before, as if he was downright starving for her touches, for her overall presence. Come to think of it, when was the last they'd kissed each other in general? When had he become so comfortable with this much physical contact? When Charlie had to release his mouth to take a breath, he began peppering kisses to her neck. His conclusion was that he simply couldn't get enough of her in general, and to enjoy the thrill of a new kind of kiss.

As it turns out, she couldn't get enough of him, either. When she pulled back to breathe, her hands drifted down his torso until she was met with the drawstring of his pajama bottoms. She smiled a little, happy that he was comfortable wearing something other than his usual dress suit these days. She gave the string a gentle tug until the knot came undone.

Alastor suddenly grunted, sounding rather uncomfortable as his arms solidified around her waist.

"S-sorry," Charlie quickly stuttered. "Too fast?" At some point, she had unwittingly straddled herself over his lap. She made to move away, but Alastor's arms didn't budge. She stared at him questioningly. He had an odd look on his face, with his smile contorted in a conflicting matter that conveyed both contentedness as well as obvious tension.

"It's…not that," he started carefully. "I understand where you're trying to take things, and I most certainly trust you. However, you'll find I'm a bit…" He paused to glance at their torsos that were pressed against each other. "lacking, in this regard."

"What do you mean?"

"I have no sex drive." He smiled apologetically at her. "And even if I did, I probably still wouldn't partake. It's incredibly unhygienic, in my opinion." He paused to look at their torsos again. "However…If…there's anything I could do for you…at the very least…" As he spoke, he placed his hesitant and slightly shaking fingers against the waistband over pajamas.

She shivered as he briefly touched her skin, but she was quick to take his hand and lock their fingers together. She brought his fist up to place a reassuring kiss there.

"That's not necessary," she said with a firm smile. "I never want you to do something that you feel like you wouldn't do." She kissed his knuckles again, and she exhaled a little, almost relieved. "This..actually works out really well."

He raised a brow at her. "How so?"

"Well," she began. "You obviously know my mom was a succubus and that my dad was an angel." She donned a thoughtfully expression. "Hmm. How to word this…So, I definitely have a sex drive, but…it takes a lot to get me going given that angels aren't naturally sexual. The problem? Once I do get aroused, it's hard for me to be satisfied. That's probably the succubus part of it. With all of that combined, sex sometimes exhausts me before it even begins." She paused. "I…was only initiating it because I thought that's what you might've wanted.

Feeling that his arms had yet to release her, she settled in his lap, placing her head on his shoulder. "But this works out better," she said. "I like this."

He exhaled, and finally relaxed enough to begin stroking his hands up and down her back. "That…That's a relief," he murmured, and they once again settled into a lovely silence.

And it truly was. Sex never interested him and the amount of relief he felt inside was nothing short of wonderful. And yet, he wanted more. He didn't even know what 'more' was, though. Because he'd wanted more of her kisses, and he most certainly got them. So what else was there?

As he contemplated, and as he pressed her body even more against his own, he realized he _still_ wanted her ever closer. How on earth was he supposed to accomplish that when she was literally in his lap? When his hands once again skimmed downwards to the waistline of her pajamas, and when he felt her shiver against him again, he arrived at his answer.

He wasn't lying at all when he said he trusted her. She was the only being in Hell that he trusted so completely. He was nervous, but a good kind of nervous, if that made any sense. It certainly didn't make sense to even him, but he couldn't fight it if he wanted to. The problem was…going about it. In the beginnings of their relationship, he gladly left everything up to Charlie given his inexperience with anything romantic. Little by little, he eventually began initiating things himself. He supposed this would be another one of those times, and he was surprised at how…interested he was.

"May I ask to see you naked," he bluntly requested.

For a second, Charlie didn't respond. Then, she lifted her head from his shoulder and whipped her gaze to him in shock, not knowing if she'd heard him right. "What?"

"That is," he added, now feeling a little anxious at her reaction. "Only if you want to."

A wide smile slowly spread across her face. "Y-Yeah. I mean, definitely. But…You said you didn't want sex."

He shook his head stiffly. "This isn't about sex. I…simply want more of you. I don't know if this is the way to go about it, but I'm definitely curious."

Charlie nodded once. "Are you sure?"

"No, but at the same time, yes."

She couldn't help but chuckle endearingly at how awkward he sounded. She placed a kiss to his lips before once again trying to get off his lap. She giggled. "You have to let me up in order for me to do this, Al."

He hummed disapprovingly, but he finally released her. "Do hurry back, though," he grinned playfully as he watched her sitting a foot away from him on the bed.

Happy that the tense atmosphere was slowly dissipating, Charlie grinned back at him. "I will," she said. "And you'll tell me if you're uncomfortable with anything, okay?"

It wasn't a question so much as it was a firm statement, one that eased and warmed Alastor's nervously stuttering heart. He only nodded in response, his words getting caught in his throat as she took her time.

He was so focused on the movements of her hands and how her eyes never left his. Slowly, methodically, patiently, she removed every piece of her clothing one at a time. She tossed her pajamas to the floor, and before he knew it, she was sitting in front of him in her most natural state.

With his eyes, he appreciated her body from a distance. From her slightly tousled hair, to the shape of her breasts, down her slim torso and pelvis, and down her long legs. She was absolutely – And then he immediately put his attention back on her face when he noticed her chewing on her lip, with a hint of self-consciousness in her eyes. A nervousness that he was compelled to immediately soothe.

Shifting to get closer, he wrapped his arms around her smooth body and pressed her to him. After a lingering kiss to her bare shoulder, he spoke directly into her ear. "With our without clothes, you will always be the most beautiful creature I've ever seen."

She was still biting her lip. This time, though, it was out of embarrassment as a blush spread all over her face. "I…Thanks. Y-you, too! Well, uh, I actually haven't seen you naked, of course, but, uh. Well, you get what I mean."

He untangled his arms from her. "Then I shall remedy that," he stated as he began unbuttoning his nightshirt.

Charlie quickly placed his hand over his to stop him. "You…only said you wanted _me_ to be naked. You definitely don't have to if you don't want to."

Alastor shook his head calmly at her as he gently took her hand away to resume. "I'm not interested in this being one-sided. So long as you're okay with this."

"Oh, yeah," she said, her eyes lighting up. "I definitely am!" She suddenly slapped a hand to her face. "And I also need to sound less enthusiastic so you don't feel rushed. Wow, Charlie."

Alastor chuckled at her as he got to the last of the buttons. "It's fine, my dear. I don't mind your enthusiasm at all, though I appreciate the sentiment."

As he completely removed his shirt, he started undoing his pants, trying to ignore the prickly feeling of someone watching him doing something so private. He was quick to assure himself that he didn't have to feel anxious, that this was Charlie he was undressing for. A different kind of privacy, in a way. When he tossed away the last of his nightwear to join Charlie's on the floor, he finally looked at her. He didn't know what he was expecting, certainly not a frown.

Her eyes swept over his body critically. "Where did all of those scars come from?"

His heart hammered so rapidly and wonderfully it might as well just leap out of his chest. He should've known better, because he now realized the look in her eyes wasn't judgement or even disgust. Her eyes only showed concern. Concern for the nasty-looking old scars that no longer bothered him.

Concern for him.

For a few seconds, his words caught in his throat as he fought back tears of pure love and admiration for the woman in front of him. And the woman in front of him…

He squinted.

Charlie had scars of her own. They were small, thin, far and few in between, and old as well, but they were definitely there. There were only a few of them and one could easily miss them, but he noticed them with their now-close proximity.

He came to the conclusion that he had to forcefully clear his throat in order to actually speak. "They," he replied hoarsely to her question. "They were from my victims. The ones that tried to fight back. And from dogs as well."

"Dogs?"

He shook his head. "A story for another day." With the utmost care, he traced the pad of his finger over a scar on her ribs. "And what about yours?"

She shrugged a little. "Centuries worth of harassment."

That immediately got his attention as he felt his smile involuntarily harden. "I see," he said, his voice low. "I don't suppose any of these harassers are still breathing the same air as you, hmm?"

Charlie chuckled a little and placed a kiss against his tense mouth. "It's nothing to worry about. It's one of the big reasons why I learned self defense all those years ago." She looked down at her body. "I sometimes forget I even have them." Then, she looked at Alastor's body.

She delicately touched one of his many scars, and he flinched sharply in response. When she began to take her hand away, Alastor stuttered that she could touch, and that it would just take him a minute. She nodded at him. As she stroked over his bare skin and as the seconds ticked by, he finally let out a breath, and he even began leaning into her touches.

Eventually, they moved from sitting up to lying down, with the covers over top of their naked bodies. They took turns caressing each other, stroking over each other's skin, mapping out each other's bodies in ways that no other person could. Their smiles, Alastor's especially, were relaxed. Their eyes were tiredly half-lidded as they lazily took each other in, going at their own pace.

Their moment of peace, solitude, and overall privacy was abruptly interrupted by a knock on Charlie's door.

Charlie had never seen such a bewildered and downright offended smile on Alastor's face as he glared daggers at the door. She gave his hand a hopefully-comforting pat as she got up to retrieve her pajamas. She shivered when the cold air hit her after being under the covers for so long.

"I'll be back in a second," she told Alastor.

He was definitely still a little tense at this interruption, but he gave her a grin nonetheless. "Do hurry back, though."

She laughed. "I will."

When she was dressed, she went to the door and opened it to find Husk standing in the hallway. "What's up," she asked.

"Got some mail for you," he grunted as he handed it all to her.

Charlie sighed heavily when she saw how many bills that still needed paid. Then, she got to the last letter and cringed. "Oh, boy."

"Yeah," Husk grumbled apologetically.

The letter was addressed specifically to _Charlotte ~~Magne~~ of the ~~Happy~~ ~~Hazbin~~ Whatever Hotel._

The sender's name was at the top left corner.

_666 News Station - Katie Killjoy_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It should be noted that I have no problem with Alastor being in a sexual relationship. I've read plenty of fics that have Alastor in sex scenes and I've thoroughly enjoyed a lot of them. Though, with my fic and my own personal head-cannon, this is just how I'd picture it would go. Hope you guys are enjoying the story so far. Once again, thank you for your support.


	26. The Realities of Honesty

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My wi-fi glitched a little. There may be some missing italics in places, but it should be all good.

Katie Killjoy insisted they do the interview at the Hotel.

On the one hand, Charlie felt a little relieved that it would be without a studio audience staring judgingly at her. On the other hand, she was absolutely dreading doing this in her own home.

After getting off the phone, she scolded herself for agreeing to Killjoy's visit. It would be inappropriate for royals to turn down a chance to be in the spotlight, so it was involuntary for her not to say 'no' and to begrudgingly go along with it.

Charlie remembered too late that she didn't have to commit to any interview given that she was no longer a royal. But the date had been set. For the very next day. And when Charlie called again to see about cancelling, all she got was a busy tone. At that point, she didn't have any choice but to prepare.

With Husk helping, Charlie rearranged some furniture in one of the common areas. The staff members and a few of the other residents had gotten wind of Killjoy's visit, and they gladly made themselves scarce from that particular area for the next few hours. No one was thrilled about any of this and they would all be happy when she'd leave. The only other person who would be around was Husk, but that's because the bar and concierge desk were close by.

They arranged two couches to face each other, with a coffee table in the middle, all of it centered beneath a well-lit chandelier. It not only looked presentable, but it was also practical. With the way the furniture was arranged and with how bright the chandelier was, it should be the perfect area for an interview.

"Thanks, Husk," Charlie said as they finished.

"Yup, because this is what I wanna do on a Saturday," he grumbled as he went back to the bar. "Rolling out the red carpet for that bitch." He took out a rag and swiped it haphazardly over the countertop because the damned thing had gotten dusty again.

As if on cue, there was loud knock on the front doors, causing Husk to continue grumbling irately.

"Believe me," Charlie sighed as she went over there. "I'm not thrilled about it either." When she placed her hands on the door handles, she glanced back at Husk with a lame, shaky smile. "But hey! Maybe some more publicity for the Hotel will be good?…Right?"

Husk gave her the most deadpanned look he'd ever given to a person. "I haven't drank in an entire month…Don't drive me to do it again."

Charlie nodded and gripped the doors. Then, his words finally registered in her mind, and she whipped her head around to beam a smile at him. "Really?! You haven't-"

"Just open the damned door, Charlie!"

She stifled a fond chuckle, beyond excited for Husk. But he was right; they had a guest to attend to. Shoulders sagging, she finally opened the doors. She expected Killjoy's face to be wearing a look of boredom and condescension. Instead, Charlie opened the doors to see her smiling widely, as if she were on camera. However, there was something odd about it, almost strained.

"Well, thank you for finally getting off your ass to open the door," she said as she walked right passed, and Charlie noted the hint of forced cheer in her voice. "I tried opening it myself, but those shadows out there were being absolute assholes."

Charlie glanced at said shadows, two of which were lingering in the doorway and glaring harshly at the intruder. Then, they put their attention on Charlie with looks of concern and suspicion.

Charlie nodded at them. "It's okay," she said, voice neutral. "She was invited."

Reluctantly, the shadows disappeared and the doors closed on their own.

"So," Killjoy said slowly. "Those were the Radio Demon's shadows…Weren't they?"

Charlie simply nodded, and she was very surprised to see an immediate change in Killjoy's demeanor. From her smile, to her voice, to her posture, it was suddenly like she had gotten an instant boost of confidence from somewhere.

"Well, who knew that all of those rumors were true," she exclaimed. "I just couldn't believe it! So I had to come over here to see for myself. Speaking of which, where is he? I thought I might interview him as well while I'm here."

"I'm sorry to say that he probably won't be joining us," Charlie answered. "He's keeping an eye on the rest of the Hotel while we do this interview."

She waved her hand dismissively. "Oh, I'm sure I can get a few words out of that attention-hogging show-off. And I won't leave here until I do! Now, where are we doing this at? I hope it's not-" She paused to scowl at the foyer. "-somewhere as drab as here."

Charlie shot her the most polite smile she could muster. "Uh, this way."

As she guided them to the common area, Killjoy made a few comments here and there. 'Such an interesting…setup here.' And 'Where are all the sinners at?' And 'Oh…Nice mailbox, by the way.'

Charlie frowned, mostly because Killjoy had yet to let her get a word in edgewise, but also because she didn't like how that last statement sounded for some reason.

Once they sat down, Killjoy looked critically around the common area. "Fine," she huffed. "I guess this'll have to do. So!" She got out a notepad and tapped a pen against the pages, almost impatiently. "Tell me about the Hotel. Business seems to be booming."

"Well, not exactly 'booming'," Charlie modestly corrected. "But it's a start. And, yeah, it's been great! We have around twenty sinners now, and they all really seem to like it here-"

"They actually _like_ the thought of redemption?"

Charlie paused. "Well…They're…getting a shot at a second chance-"

"You sure they're not just humoring you to get a free place to stay?"

Charlie resisted the urge to grimace at her. "Maybe they are, maybe they're not. I can't read minds. Of course they'd want a safe place to stay. Anybody would. So long as everyone is courteous and respectful to each other and the Hotel overall…"

Killjoy scrutinized her, probably irritated about not getting a rise out of her. But the ex-Princess did seem very uncomfortable by all this, so there was that. "Anyway," she continued as she began jotting things down. "I take it that means you've started implementing some sort of redemption stuff?"

Charlie nodded. "Most of it right now is just keeping sinners busy, you know? To distract them from sinning. We have a rec room that we call the living room, and people spend most of their free time in there. We hold yoga classes and meditation throughout the week, and it's to a point where we have to schedule certain people for certain days because of how full the classes have gotten. There's a greenhouse towards the back of the Hotel – We have a resident who's been here for a while who used to scam his village with herbal medicines, so he's really enjoying gardening. I think the group therapy is the most recent thing-"

Her words were cut off when Killjoy erupted into laughter, making Charlie frown. "Oh my god! I can't-" She laughed some more. "Jesus Christ, that's rich! Group therapy? In Hell?! I'm sorry, but we gotta move on to a different topic before I lose my shit."

Charlie ground her teeth together to the point of pain. Whenever she felt insulted, belittled, or attacked, she always did her best to avoid whoever was getting in her face, or at the very least stand her ground until they went away. Now, for the first time in a long time, someone was belittling her hotel right in front of her. Specifically, belittling her residents.

Charlie opened her mouth, but no words came to the surface. She needed to at least get Killjoy to stop her mockery for a second, but she had no idea how to do that. Confrontation wasn't her nature.

"Now," Killjoy thankfully – or was it unfortunately – continued. "Let's get down to a juicier topic, and that is…" She paused dramatically, leaning closer to Charlie. "The Radio Demon."

"Yeah," Charlie said slowly, unsure if she liked this change in topic knowing how Killjoy is. "Alastor has been a big help-"

"Oh, I don't care about how helpful he is. He could be running this place into the ground for all I care-" She stopped herself, a wicked smile twitching at the corners of her mouth. "Actually, we'll come back to that. But no. What our viewers really wanna know is if he truly is staying in the Hotel, which he clearly is, and...If you two are fucking each other."

Charlie didn't know it was possible to feel this tense. She shook her head stubbornly. "Look, with all due respect, it's none of your-"

"Are you two dating or not?"

Charlie exhaled harshly. Well...It wasn't as if it was that big of a secret anyway given how much the residents gossiped both inside and outside of the Hotel. "Yeah, okay. We are-"

She let out another laugh as she wrote some more things down. "God, I thought it was just another rumor from this ridiculous place. Wait 'til they get a load of this back at the station! You gotta tell me how he is. I bet he's an absolute scoundrel in the sack!"

"We don't-" Charlie began, but then shook her head. "Again, it's really none of your-"

"Good morning, ladies," Alastor exclaimed, seemingly popping up from out of nowhere. "Having a good interview, are we," he asked as he walked over to Charlie.

"Well," Killjoy bit out, her teeth clenched as she forced herself to smile wider. "Speak of the devil and he shall appear."

As Alastor waltzed around to the back of Charlie's couch, she realized something as she observed Killjoy. Killjoy, just like everyone else outside of the Hotel, was terrified of him. What was conflicting with that, though, was the need to get the latest scoop on something, and any gossip involving Alastor was something that all of Hell would be interested in. Charlie rubbed her arm, hoping she hadn't said anything too private about Alastor or out of line. Her hand was removed from her arm when familiar fingers laced through her own, making her finally relax a little.

Killjoy watched this little affectionate display with blatant fascination. "So, Radio Demon." She paused. "What was your name again?"

"I don't care to share it with you," he remarked cheerfully. "Is there something you need from me?"

She tapped the pen against the notepad again. "If you could share a few words-"

He laughed as if she'd just told a funny joke. "Oh, I've no time to waste on something like that. If I want to spread my own publicity, I'm more than capable of doing so." He raised up his microphone stand for emphasis. Then, he smiled sinisterly at her, his eyes narrowing. "But I don't have to tell you what an exceptional broadcaster I am, now do I," he added, his voice ever so slightly distorted by radio static.

Killjoy was having more and more trouble maintaining her composure, but she couldn't lose face, even if it was one of the most horrific beings in Hell. "Well," Killjoy tried, hoping to see at least some of his arrogant demeanor falter. "You should hear the things we've talked about you-"

"And I'm sure Charlie has been nothing but respectful in regards to me," he interrupted. "And respectful to you, which I feel is a waste of her breath, but it is her hotel at the end of the day. But no, I'm not interested in any interview." As he spoke, he released Charlie's fingers and placed his hands comfortingly on her upper arms. "I only wanted to stop by and see if you ladies needed anything before I resume my work."

"Well," Killjoy muttered, almost petulantly. "If I'm not gonna get anything interesting from you…I suppose not."

He only hummed at that. He brought his face closer to Charlie's, almost touching his chin to her shoulder, but his gaze didn't waver as he bored his eyes into Killjoy's. "Charlie," he asked.

Charlie didn't miss the low tone in his voice, or the way he stared down Killjoy, or the way his hands protectively stroked up and down her arms. "It's fine," she said to him automatically, but then she knew she needed to correct herself. "Actually, no it's…" She took her attention off Alastor to look at Killjoy with a sigh. "It's all going as…expected."

After a moment of contemplation, he finally looked at Charlie, nodded, and stepped away, his touch leaving her.

"I shall leave you both to it, then! This hotel doesn't run itself, you know" he crowed, ever exuberant, as if he hadn't just been silently threatening Killjoy. As he spoke, he paid that woman no mind, only keeping his gaze on Charlie. "Do let me know if you need any assistance," he said as he walked away.

"So," Charlie eventually huffed tiredly. "Anything else you wanted to cover?"

When Killjoy was done glaring in the direction Alastor disappeared to, she put her attention back on Charlie. After a few purposeful seconds, she donned another wicked smile. "I gotta say, he seems to take his role pretty seriously. I…don't even know what would compel you to make him a co-owner in the first place."

Charlie chuckled dryly. "Well, he…kinda gave himself the title."

"Oh, I can imagine with a pushover like you. It's just, I can't imagine how disappointed he must be."

Charlie's brows knitted together. "What do you mean?"

"All of those wasted months? All that work? Down the drain because he suddenly decided to care about this place?"

She stared at her. "I don't know what you mean."

Killjoy rolled her eyes. "Oh, come on. You can't tell me he didn't have ulterior motives. Why else would someone like him wanna join a place like this?" Idly, almost casually, she wrote down a few other things as she reclined a little. "I wonder what he wanted. Maybe the throne? Ha! It's such a cliché to use you and your hotel for that. But then you got disowned and made his plan backfire. Maybe that's why he seems to care about this place. Nothing else to invest his time in. God knows why he seems to care about you."

As Killjoy rambled on with the insults, Charlie had to refrain herself from clutching her own arms again. She didn't like how comfortable Killjoy now seemed in her hotel, so she hoped that if she just let Killjoy get every little word out of her system that she would finally end the interview.

Charlie gave herself a mental pat on the back when it did indeed end. She wasn't good at confrontation, but she could at least read a conversation, no matter how one-sided it could be.

"Well," Killjoy sighed, standing up and dusting her dress off, as if just having done a hard day's work. "I better get back to the station. Tom is currently running things while I'm away, and knowing his incompetence he'd probably set himself and the place on fire." She smirked at Charlie. "Unless you wanna help him with that again."

Charlie ignored the jab, just like she'd ignored all the other ones today, and stood up as well. "I'll walk you to the door."

When they got back to the foyer, Husk was still at his bar. He was leaning over it, almost falling asleep out of boredom. When he noticed they'd returned, he glared at Killjoy. "You good, Charlie?"

"Yeah," she nodded. "Just showing Katie Killjoy out."

"Finally," he hollered, tipping his head rapturously towards the ceiling. "The Wicked Bitch of the West is leaving!"

Killjoy sneered at him, her eyes narrowing dangerously. "You want me to interview you, too?"

"Rather gouge my own eardrums out," he grumbled as he started walking away.

Right before Killjoy left, she stopped in the doorway. "Oh, like I said," she added, pointing to something outside on the wall beside the doors. "I really do like your mailbox, but you'll probably need a bigger one to hold all of those overdo bills. Nice interview. Our viewers will go nuts over it!"

She slammed the doors behind her, leaving Charlie to stand in the foyer with her stomach twisted in knots.

\-------

"How did it go," Alastor asked as Charlie entered his study for their break. "It seemed…interesting."

"'Interesting' is a good word for it," she remarked humorlessly as she sat beside him on the sofa. She was thankful when he opened up his arms so she could lean into his chest. "Me and my big mouth for accepting to it," she mumbled.

He rested his chin on top of her head. "Don't be so hard on yourself, dearest. You were a royal for many centuries. You had many things expected of you during that time. I can imagine habits like that would be hard to kick."

"I guess," she muttered.

"I hope I didn't overstep this morning, by the way," he said. "Not only did I want to check in on you." He paused. "But this is my home, as well, just as much as it is yours."

"Of course it is," she said, a slight smile in her voice. "And you didn't overstep. If it was you in that interview, I would've done the same thing."

They sat in silence for a while. As lively as they both were, neither of them minded silence ironically, especially when it was just the two of them. It was as if things in Hell could just be peaceful for the moment. However, Alastor wasn't a fan of this particular silence.

"Charlie," he murmured. "Is everything alright?"

"Not really. She said a few things that left a really bad taste in my mouth."

"Such as…?"

She exhaled shortly, and she had to leave the warmth of his arms in order to straighten herself up to look at him. "Mostly about the Hotel and our residents. I expected her to be as condescending as she usually is, but it felt…excessive this time. Probably because of the lack of cameras. Less of an image to uphold? I don't know, maybe I'm just imagining things. But I couldn't stand how…"

She shook her head slowly, not wanting to get into that with how outraged it made her feel. "Anyway. She also wanted to know if we really were in a relationship, and I said yes, but I really tried to keep things discreet." He silently placed an appreciative kiss to her cheek as she spoke. "God, and the way she wanted to talk about you, like she was determined to dig up something personal about you." She then chewed on her bottom lip contemplatively.

After a few moments, she once again found herself in Alastor's arms. "What else," he murmured against her hair.

"It's nothing."

"Clearly it isn't just nothing."

She tried to shrug his arms off to look at his face again, but they wouldn't budge, keeping a snug, comforting hold around her. She sighed, giving in all too easily and finally relaxing some more. "It's just…She kept thinking you had ulterior motives when you first joined the Hotel."

She felt Alastor nod. "Vaggie thought that as well."

"She definitely did, yeah," Charlie agreed.

There was another silence, but shorter.

"Do _you_ think I did?"

Decidedly, Charlie pried his arms off of her to sit up again. She had yet to release one of his hands, though. "I thought that…might've been a possibility at first, given your reputation." She clutched his hand. "But then I got to know you more, and I noticed the rare occasions you'd been bored, and I came to the conclusion that you really were here just for entertainment." She paused. "That…was the case, right? N-not that I'm doubting you now or anything! I have no reason to-"

"I appreciate your honesty," he interrupted calmly, almost politely if that were even possible. "I would be concerned if you didn't at least have an inkling." He tucked some hair behind her ear. "I told you at the time that I was craving a new form of entertainment, and after seeing your performance on the news, I had a decent feeling I would get it if I joined your hotel. You know I don't think you'll succeed, and it'll be quite hilarious to see these sinners fail along their path to redemption.

"However, I'm not here to _purposefully_ make them fail. I have a feeling they'll do that on their own. No, it is my job to help keep this place afloat as my title originally and _still_ implies. And the amount of entertainment I've gotten this year has been nothing short of interesting!"

He took her face in his hands so they wouldn't lose eye contact with each other. "I was honest with you about everything from the beginning, my dearest."

Charlie smiled at him. She reached up to stroke her fingers over his hands, wanting them to stay against her face. "Can I also be honest about something else," she requested, going over the words he just spoke, even the unsavory ones.

His eyes lit up. "I'd be insulted if you didn't!"

"I always appreciate your honesty," she chuckled a little. "Even the honesty that kind of annoys me."

He laughed a little. Then, he brought her face close to steal a kiss to her lips. She chuckled again, a little giddy now that the tense atmosphere leftover from this morning had finally faded, and she responded to his kisses with fervor. It couldn't last forever, though, as her brain reminded her of one last thing she needed to bring up.

With a heavy sigh and a slight frown, she said, "We need to have a meeting with everyone."

\-------

Later that evening, Charlie and Alastor had tracked down all of the employees and had everyone gather in the main common area.

Charlie exhaled. "Thank you all for taking the time out of your day to come to this. There's something I want – need to talk to you all about. Since we are the original six people who've been here since the beginning-"

"Five."

Everyone looked at Angel Dust, who was sitting in a nearby swivel chair. His arms were crossed as he stared at Charlie with a frown.

"What," Charlie asked.

"Five," Angel repeated, his tone slightly clipped.

Charlie's brows scrunched together, unsure for a few seconds what he meant. And then the realization crashed into her.

N…

No Vaggie.

Right.

Obviously.

Charlie cringed, not only because she didn't mean to upset Angel, but also because she briefly wondered just how Vaggie was doing.

"S-Sorry, Angel," she told him after a few seconds of awkward silence.

He only waved dismissively at her. "Yeah, yeah, whatever," he muttered, now more neutral than upset. "Does this meeting have a point, or can I go?"

"Yes. It does," she continued, clearing her throat. "What I was trying to say was that I trust you guys with this kind of thing." 

She took a breath. "There's no more money. The remainder of it ran out not too long ago."

Immediately, they all exchanged worried glances.

"So," Niffty said. "No more money for cleaning supplies?"

"No more money for the alcohol Husk ain't gonna drink," Angel snickered.

"Man, shut up," Husk snapped. "I'd counter that with something drug related, but knowing you you'd just snort something outa spite."

"Yes," Charlie interrupted the bickering. "No more money for…any of that stuff." She sighed. "And I thought I had everything under control. The money had dwindled quite a bit a few months back, and I thought I'd have enough time to think of something. But then we did more renovations, got more residents in, things got a little chaotic as a result, and suddenly…Nothing left."

She glanced around at her employees. "I should've brought this up sooner. And I…don't know what to do. I don't know where we're supposed to get more money from. I'm asking you guys for help. I want us to bounce ideas off each other."

There was a silence, followed by the room filling with contemplative mumbles, none of them sounding particularly enthusiastic or hopeful. It made Charlie sink further into her chair. 

And then Husk spoke up.

"Eh, fuck it, everybody's right," he grumbled, staring down at the table he was sitting at. "Do what you want with the booze. We could, I don't know, sell it or some shit. And Alastor can always conjure more to sell. Ain't like it's being used anyway. Hell, even most of the residents don't ask for drinks much anymore. Except for wimpy shit like mocktails and wine coolers."

"Speaking of Alastor," Niffty mused as she looked at said demon, who was sitting next to Charlie on the couch, having yet to say a word. "Couldn't you just make things or money appear out of thin air?"

"This is Charlie's preference," Alastor responded. "And I think selling the alcohol is practical, but not enough." In one of his usual showy gesture, he twirled his microphone stand and made it disappear. "What we need is a sponsor for the Hotel. And who better to do that than my esteemed comrade, Rosie?"

Charlie immediately perked up, a smile stretching her face. "You mean the Emporium owner? The one Vaggie's staying with?"

"The very one," he exclaimed with his usual exuberant grin. "She has plenty of money. Mind, she's a tough one. She can be very greedy, so it'd be wise to mention my name to her. I'm sure you'll have no problem then."

"That sounds great," Charlie said. "I'll visit her in a few days and hopefully all goes well. Thanks, Al!" She turned to Husk. "And thanks to you, too, Husk."

He merely mumbled something incoherent as he continued to stare contemplatively at the table.

For the next half hour, they tried coming up with a few more ideas, but unfortunately got nowhere with them. At least they had Husk and Alastor's suggestions. Then, unexpectedly, Charlie found themselves talking about the Hotel in general. Niffty informed Alastor of things that needed renovating that were beyond her skills, to which he agreed to with a single nod. Husk said they'd eventually need more room keys. Angel mentioned they were running low on coffee. Oh, and that he would need Charlie to babysit Fat Nuggets for a few nights soon.

As they talked, Charlie got out a pen and a crumpled piece of paper from her pocket. She hadn't anticipated needing it because she was sure they wouldn't come up with any concrete ideas tonight, or anything extra for that matter. This was a pleasant surprise not only because of the further progress currently being made, but also because of how happy she felt in general. It had been quite some time since she'd spoken to all of her friends and fellow employees for this length of time.

Listening to the bickering, joking, and how well everyone was working together, it didn't even feel like work.


	27. So Far, So Good

Charlie was not only excited about the prospect of getting a sponsor for the Hotel, but she was also really hoping that Vaggie would be around. She hadn't seen her in so many weeks. She'd wanted to call ahead to set up a proper appointment to meet Rosie, and to ask about Vaggie, but Alastor quickly informed her that Rosie didn't own a phone and that it would just be best to drop by in person.

It kind of made sense with how old fashioned Rosie seemed. Charlie briefly considered calling Vaggie, but then she'd quickly put her phone away. Even though Vaggie had left Charlie her number, it still felt like it would be odd to call her.

The storefront in front of Charlie was subtle, yet very elegant. In between two pillars was a tall set of ruby red doors, both flanked by ornate sconces that were lit even though it was the middle of the day. She pressed the red button for the doorbell. As she waited, the sign above her head caught her eye. It was a bright pink marquee sign that read ' ~~Franklin~~ and Rosie Emporium'. Truthfully, Charlie didn't know much about Rosie, and even littler about Franklin. Rosie had always been a bit on the reclusive side.

Charlie nervously wondered how this would go. And she also wondered why no one had answered the door yet. Out of polite habit, she went to reach for the doorbell again, only to remind herself that this was a store and that she could probably just enter when she wanted to.

She didn't know what she expected upon entering. She would've thought that the elegant outside would reflect the inside. However, instead, everything appeared to be very cluttered, with merchandise being clumped together, making the walkways and aisles extremely narrow.

Emporiums by definition had a wide array of things to sell, but more often than not they at least had some sort of theme. At first glance, Charlie thought the emporium only focused on floral design and clothing. But the more she walked, the more she noticed books, cleaning supplies, knickknacks, and other things, all of which didn't seem to really go together. For quite a few minutes, Charlie couldn't discern a rhyme or reason to any of it. Everything just seemed so crammed together. But not claustrophobic, for some reason. And that made Charlie stop to take another more thorough glance around.

That's when she finally noticed it. The way the flowers were arranged by color and type, same with the clothing aisle. And all of the other odds and ends had their own particular corners in which they resided. There also wasn't a speck of dust on anything. Overall, one could see the symmetry if they took the time to look.

After a few minutes of admiring everything, Charlie decided to go back to the flowers. Not only because they smelled nice and looked beautiful, but also because she'd heard some shuffling coming from over there. Weaving through the delicate floral jungle, following the sounds of rustling, Charlie almost bumped right into something wooden. Her eyes trailed upward. It was a tall extension ladder that nearly reached all the way to the high ceiling, which was how high up the flowers reached as well. Standing at the very top of it was none other than Rosie.

Rosie was someone who kept to herself, but she somehow always managed to make a statement. She wore a red and grey dress and an extremely wide plumed sun hat atop her head. Her skin was very pale. And her eyes were the most striking. She had none. Just two black voids that were practically sockets.

"Did you make an appointment," Rosie suddenly asked without even looking at Charlie, startling her. "I don't recall making any today."

"Uh," Charlie stammered. "No. I was going to-"

"Did you have something on order or for request?"

"No," she repeated.

"Do you intend to purchase something?" Still, she'd yet to really acknowledge Charlie's presence, concentrating all of her attention on a particularly stubborn carnation arrangement.

"Unfortunately, also no. Well, not exactly-"

"Then I'm afraid you'll have to take your business elsewhere. I've a store to run and I've no interest in pandering to those that loiter. There, now," she then suddenly murmured towards the flower as she finished her task.

She descended the ladder. Upon reaching the floor, she clicked her fingers and the ladder shrank. She picked it up, and it now fit perfectly in the palm of her hand. Walking right passed Charlie, she said, "Still here, I see?"

"Y-Yeah," Charlie said, following her through the store, but at a respectful distance. "I was wondering if I could take a moment of your time."

Rosie chuckled under her breath as she placed the miniscule ladder next an assortment of other knickknacks. "A moment of my time? Darling, I have nothing but that. You might as well take an entire century!"

Charlie tilted her head as Rosie continued to laugh, not quite sure what exactly she meant by that.

Rosie suddenly stopped and turned around to fully acknowledge Charlie. She gave a deep, resigned sigh. "Oh, but very well. I suppose I shall humor you. Let's have a seat behind the counter, shall we?"

She led Charlie towards the back of the store and behind the checkout counter, where it seemed to double as a break room area. They both sat down at a small glass coffee table.

"Now what exactly can I do for you," Rosie asked. "It's been quite some time since I've gotten visitors."

"Well, my name's Charlie," she said, extending her hand with a smile.

Rosie blinked at this polite gesture. How unusual. All the same, she shook her hand firmly not a second later.

"And I run a hotel not too far from here. Maybe you've heard of it? Some people call it the Happy Hotel or the Hazbin-"

"Well why didn't you say so!"

This sudden exuberant outburst made Charlie jump sharply in her chair. Rosie was now beaming at her with a wide grin that revealed a set of horrifically sharp, pearl-white teeth. Even sharper than Alastor's, which Charlie didn't even know was possible.

"Uh-"

"You're _that_ Charlie, aren't you," Rosie said. "Alastor's love. You should've said so!" Her smile faltered ever so slightly. "I hope you didn't find me…disrespectful."

"No, not all. This is your store, after all," Charlie assured, silently wondering why Rosie had suddenly gotten nervous.

"Well, excellent," she exclaimed, cheerful once more. "But before we get started…" She waved her hand over the table, making a tray of very fragrant tea appear in front of them. "Much better." Rosie gently took one of the cups. "Do help yourself, darling."

"By the way, how's Vaggie doing," Charlie asked, taking one as well, but not drinking quite yet. "She's still living here, right?"

"Oh, she's positively wonderful! I'm glad Alastor sent her to me. I admire her spirit! She leaves none to the imagination of how much she despised having to live here."

Charlie winced. "She…hates it that much."

"Used to. I don't think she'll ever completely warm up to this place, and she's never happy when I make her work in any capacity, but she seems rather neutral of things now." She shrugged. "I'll take it."

Charlie nodded. "Yeah. That kind of sounds like her. It takes her a long time to trust things."

"That was obvious from the start." Rosie poured more tea into her cup. "You can visit her once we're done. You've just so happened to catch her on a rare day off. Now, what is it I can help you with?"

"Did Alastor tell you anything about the Hotel?"

"Nothing recent," she answered. "The last we spoke was earlier in the year. He sounded dreadfully bored at the time. However, by the end of the conversation he had returned to his usual exuberant self. Of course, I now realized it was because the subject matter at that moment was you." She briefly waggled her thin eyebrows at Charlie. "Anyway, how are you all faring as of late?"

"We're all doing well, actually! Things have really started picking up. Everything's looking great." Charlie paused. "We…were hoping you could help us out, though."

Interest piqued, Rosie placed her cup on the table and folded her hands neatly on her lap. "My help, you say? How so?"

Charlie sighed a little. "Well, speaking honestly, the Hotel has no more money. And since you and Alastor are – er, have known each other for a while, he suggested that you might consider sponsoring the Hotel?"

Rosie shook her head and laughed. "He still won't admit we're friends, will he? Well, I can't say I'm offended, given that I'll never admit to it either. Ah, but I digress. So, a sponsor is what you need. From me." Rosie hummed and tapped her chin. After a few hesitant moments, she said, "I'll…consider it. However, I fail to see how I benefit from you taking my money."

Charlie nodded. "I was thinking about that on my way over, because it wouldn't be fair for you to not get something in return. I should've asked Alastor what his thoughts were, because, well, I've never personally met you before, so therefore I don't know what you'd want."

Rosie was about to say that she herself didn't quite know either, and for Charlie to come back at a later date once she had an answer, until Rosie glanced around.

After quite a few moments of contemplation, Rosie picked up her tea again. "Advertise the Emporium."

"Really," Charlie asked. "That's all?"

"I don't suppose you ever met Franklin, my old business partner? He was killed during the last Cleanse." She set the cup down, grinning casually all the while. "And thank god for that! He was quite the nuisance. Absolutely no spine, too. When I pushed him out the door that day I was hoping for at least a _little_ entertainment, but he rolled over for those angels, ever the bore. _Ah, c'est la vie_.

"And yet…For some reason, that soft disposition of his made for more frequent customers." She paused, and Charlie felt a little self-conscious as Rosie's dark eyes scrutinized her. "You and him have a lot in common. Soft and welcoming. Such rarities amongst damnation.

"My beloved Emporium hasn't gotten much business since his dull demise. We used to only sell flowers and formal attire, but I started expanding my stock to other things. Unfortunately, not even that has helped. The number of customers doesn't just dwindle by the day anymore. They now dwindle by the week. I still have enough financial security to last me for quite a few years, but it can't last forever. All I ask is that you advertise the Emporium."

Charlie nodded once. "That sounds fair. More than fair. How would you want me doing it?" She tucked some hair behind her ear. "I…don't have a really good track record when it comes to advertising."

"I should say not." Rosie snickered a little. "You can advertise as you see fit. A poster, a news interview. The riffraff these days use the internet, so that's one avenue. Hmm…But that still wouldn't be enough for me, now that I'm thinking about it."

She became contemplative again. As she thought some things over, her gaze drifted away from Charlie, and she glanced around her Emporium to spark an idea. "Actually, I'm more than certain my flowers could lighten up that dingy hotel of yours. We could start with that! And you haven't touched your tea yet."

Charlie looked at her, momentarily whiplashed by the change of subject. "Oh, uh," she stammered, glancing down at her tea, which had mysteriously remained piping hot throughout the whole conversation. She half-smiled nervously at Rosie. "S-Sorry about that. Force of habit."

"How do you mean?"

"Well," she started carefully. "Let's just say I've learned over the years not to take food or drink from demons I don't personally know. And I know that sounds rude, and I hope you're not-"

Rosie held up a stern finger to stop her. "Well, well. You surprise me. I daresay you have more sense than my cowardly coworker did." She grinned. "You're not as naïve as everyone in Hell claims you to be."

"Believe me," Charlie sighed. "There are definitely times-"

Once again, a stern finger. "I won't hear a word of it. Everyone is entitled to their own opinion, and all that." With a final click of her fingers, the tea set disappeared, including the cup in Charlie's hand.

"Thank you," Charlie said. "For all of this. Give me a week or two to scrounge up some money for some of your flower arrangements-"

"Goodness me, darling," Rosie exclaimed. "You have no idea how sponsorships work, do you? The flowers will arrive at your hotel by the end of next week. I'll deliver them myself, and personally help you arrange them throughout. During my visit, I'll also instruct you on how to budget. I'm not interested in any of my hard-earned money going frivolously to waste." She grimaced slightly at Charlie. "Weren't you a previous royal? Did you not have everything handed to you on a silver platter?"

"Um, not when I could help it," she answered. "I always enjoyed working for the things I wanted."

"Ah. How…quaint," was Rosie's response. They both stood up, with Rosie dusting her dress off. "I suppose we have a deal, then."

"Yup," Charlie smiled, extending her hand again. "I'm so excited for this. Thank you again. Really."

Rosie's grin shook as she stared. "I don't shake hands. That sort of deal-making is something I no longer initiate, not since Alastor arrived in Hell."

"Oh! No, I wasn't-"

"Either way, you can be assured we have a deal. The stairs to Vagatha's apartment are over there." Rosie walked away, disappearing amongst the shelves.

Charlie exhaled, ecstatic about another glimpse of progress and more than happy about how it all went. After a few seconds, she went around the counter towards the staircase. When she got up to the second floor, she heard Rosie holler, "Expect a check to arrive in the Hotel's mailbox any day now."

\-------

Charlie just stood there for quite a few minutes, bouncing apprehensively on the balls of her feet and gnawing on her bottom lip.

It had to have been at least two months since she last saw Vaggie, and she didn't know what she would find on the other side of the door. Charlie knew that she didn't like to be interrupted when she needed time for herself, so she was already anticipating some annoyance from her. But what about other emotions, such as resentment, a clipped tone, or even just a blatant cold shoulder? Would Vaggie even _want_ a visit from her at all? 

Well, Charlie was about to find out. Tensely, she raised her fist and softly knocked on the door.

"Jesus," Charlie heard from inside the room. Despite the annoyance in that tone, Charlie couldn't help but smile at hearing her voice. "Why the hell can't she give me just one day off?" 

The door abruptly swung open, and Charlie's smile widened. Vaggie wore a look of complete and utter aggravation. And hey, Charlie was fine with that. She was more than happy just to be seeing her again. 

Then, Vaggie's eyes went wide. "Oh, my god!"

Vaggie rushed towards Charlie, and she flung her arms around her. Charlie laughed, not even remotely expecting this kind of welcome as she held her just as tightly. When Vaggie stepped back, she was wearing a smile that Charlie hadn't seen from her in such a long time.

"I didn't think you would ever visit me here," she said. "Call maybe, but not a visit. Here, why don't you come in?" She grimaced slightly as she opened her apartment door for Charlie. "It's always so stuffy in this store."

"I kind of like it, actually," she said.

"Yeah, I'm not surprised, given your tastes."

Charlie looked around. It was a tiny studio, with a kitchen, living room, and bedroom all combined.

"Yeah," Vaggie grumbled as she went over to sit on a comfy chair. "It's not much, I know." As Charlie sat on a nearby ottoman, Vaggie added, "I'll admit it…I do miss my hotel room sometimes. That thing was huge, and I actually had my own bathroom. I have to constantly share the one down the hallway with _her_."

Charlie gave her a small smile. "You…Well, of course you know you're always welcome to come back…whenever."

Vaggie smirked. "Nice try. From the sounds of it, everything seems like it's going good, but…" She exhaled. "I'm fine here, Charlie."

"Right, yeah," she nodded quickly. "I get it."

"And I've missed you, too," Vaggie added with another smile.

They talked for a good long while, almost an hour. Catching up and letting the other know how things were going.

Charlie spoke in depth of the Hotel, from the new residents to the renovations. It was surprising, though. In between sentences, Charlie would ask Vaggie a question about how her life was going. Vaggie would answer, but then immediately follow up with a question about the Hotel. At first Charlie thought she was avoiding something. However, she'd known Vaggie for years and she could tell by the way she talked and listened that that probably wasn't the case. She genuinely seemed interested in the Hotel right now, smiling and commenting as they talked.

Vaggie was honestly doing fine, as well. Oh, Rosie worked her like a dog most days and refused to give her much leeway. In the beginning, she assumed that Rosie simply enjoyed pushing her around, and there were many days where she'd contemplated leaving right then and there. And maybe Rosie did enjoy doing that, but Vaggie was surprised to find how non-threatening Rosie actually was.

She was dangerous, no doubt, as Vaggie had seen what her powers can do, but she didn't flex or use it against anyone. She was simply happy to run her store, and if Vaggie lived under her roof, then she had to be a part of it as well. She supposed there were worse, more perilous places she could live. With time, she eventually came to terms with coexisting with the strict overlord.

Eventually, Charlie and Vaggie moved on to more casual subjects.

"So," Charlie said. "Did you ever get to go on that girl's night out with Angel and Cherri?"

Vaggie pursed her lips. "No, I was…busy that day," she said slowly. "I'd already made plans with…someone I met recently."

Charlie's eyes widened, a smile stretching her face. "As in…"

Vaggie shrugged, and she studied Charlie's reaction carefully. "Maybe. I don't know. We're just friends, but…maybe that could change. I…I really like her."

"That's awesome," Charlie exclaimed. "I'm happy for you!" Vaggie's shoulders sagged in relief, which didn't go unnoticed. "You thought I wouldn't be?"

Vaggie snorted. "After how our breakup went," she mumbled. "I think you'd have the right to act different. I know you're not normally the jealous type, but…You know what I mean."

Charlie fidgeted a little, trying to find the right words. "Am I upset that you may never wanna come back to the Hotel? Yeah, I am. I always will be. But Vaggie, I'll never be upset about you wanting to make a life for yourself outside of that. And even wanting to find love. I can't even _begin_ to describe how happy I am for you."

Vaggie looked away, as if she hadn't heard a word that Charlie just said. "And I was upset about _you_ for all of that." There was an excruciating silence that seemed to go on forever, but really only lasted a second. "And sometimes I think I'm still upset about it. Which is why I can't go back to the Hotel. Not if I want to continue moving on." Vaggie glanced around at her tiny, pathetic excuse for an apartment with a fond smile. "And honestly…So far, so good."

Charlie managed a watery, but still bright smile. "Yeah. So far, so good."

\-------

When Charlie entered her bedroom that night, she found Alastor already waiting on the bed. As soon as he heard the door open and close, he looked up at her and got up. In a few quick strides, he was across the room, wrapping his arms around her waist, and pressing a sound kiss to her lips.

Charlie chuckled against his mouth, responding with equal passion. When he pulled back, she asked, "Not that I mind, but what was that for?"

"You have such a radiant smile on your face right now," he said. "Have I ever mentioned how I'm addicted to that smile? Anyway, I take it everything went well." He paused, his eyes narrowing almost imperceptibly. "And that Rosie was courteous?"

"Yup," Charlie responded as Alastor took both of her hands. She let him lead her to the bed to finally have a break from the long day. "She seems more than happy to sponsor the Hotel, so long as we advertise the Emporium for her."

"Ah, I should've known that would be her angle," he commented as they sat on the mattress and leaned against the headboard. "Well, I should say that's fairly reasonable."

Charlie nodded. "We're gonna put up her flowers around the Hotel to start with. I'm also gonna see if the internet would be effective enough for her business. And she'll drop off the flowers and give me some financial advice, as well."

"Splendid," he said. "I take it you got to visit Vaggie while you were there?"

"Yeah. She's doing great! Well…Not great, but a lot better than when she - But yeah, all good."

He only nodded vaguely, not wanting to pry. He had another subject he wanted to bring up. "And what of Franklin? I take it he wasn't there."

Charlie shook her head. "No, he was killed during last year's Cleanse."

He laughed once at that. "Oh, and I take it Rosie was the catalyst in all that! I always had a hunch. No wonder she wouldn't tell me."

Charlie raised a brow. "What do you mean?"

"It wouldn't be wise of Rosie for me to have any reason see her as a threat, and she knows that all too well. As you know, I don't take kindly to that sort of thing. Not that I ever will see her as a threat, mind, but I take it as a compliment!"

Eventually, they lapsed into a tired silence, so Charlie went to the en suite, took a shower, and returned to the bed. As soon as she was under the covers, Alastor curled his arms around her. Charlie sagged against him, feeling more emotionally drained than she realized, despite it being a good day all things considered.

"Speaking of which," Alastor murmured, making Charlie furrow her brows. _Speaking of which what_ , she thought. "I suppose you'll want to keep a very close eye on things over the next twenty-four hours."

"What do you mean?"

"Why, the next Cleanse, of course. It's tomorrow."


	28. Does Fear Keep You Alive?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * There's an interesting headcanon that some of the fandom has, with most speculating if Charlie can, in fact, be injured by angelic weapons. I hope you guys don't mind me using that headcanon.
> 
> By the way, I thoroughly apologize with what the italics were originally doing in this chapter. I think I fixed it. I don't know what happened there.

One of the reasons why Princess Charlotte's idea for a redemption hotel was one of complete madness was because of the angels themselves. No one in Hell trusted them.

Why would they? Once a year, they descended from Heaven to slaughter and lay waste to everything. Countless homes, countless lives, all demolished simply because Heaven thought it best? There was no use in confronting them, no use in stopping them…No use in being brave.

Many people in Hell talked a big talk. All arrogant and reckless. Plenty of royals and overlords, hell-born or otherwise, had very similar mentalities like this as well. However, if one brought up the subject of the angels, all arrogance went right out the window, being replaced with looks of unabashed fear from everyone in the vicinity. Those that were reckless would gladly admit to being so any day of the week.

Just not towards the angels. Never towards the angels. It wasn't a battle worth fighting.

Which Charlie agreed with all of that. There definitely was no use in risking your life by going up against beings that were so formidable. So, why didn't she feel intimidated by them like everyone else?

She definitely respected them, as in giving them respectful distance. However, she always wondered why she never had a healthy fear of them. One time, as a child, she asked her father this.

It absolutely baffled Lucifer. Though the angels were his previous brethren, even _he_ had enough sense to be terrified of them. He had every reason to be, given the ruthless manner in which he was expelled from Heaven. It made Lucifer sigh a little, yet again reminding himself that his daughter was an odd one.

His explanation for her was a vague one, stating that it was probably, once again, her angelic genetics playing a part. Perhaps it was instinctual that she wasn't afraid. And he left it at that.

Charlie sighed. As she rolled over to face away from Alastor, she thought long and hard about that. Her father's explanation made sense, she supposed. It had always made sense. However, what refused to leave her mind was why she had asked that question to him in the first place. That particular day was the very first day that she'd actually seen the aftermath that the angels left behind in their wake.

Now that she thought about it, was her genetics really the reason? What about her drive to help her people? Well, they technically weren't her people anymore, but that wouldn't want to make her help any less. There was also one other theory she had –

And it made her cringe and slam her eyes shut. Things were going so well at the Hotel. She didn't want to think about it. She couldn't!

Alastor's arms tightened more securely around her. "I assume you're worried about tomorrow," he mused. There was a pause as he shifted a little behind her, as if looking for something. Then, he settled again. "Well, tomorrow is actually already here according to that clock, but you get the idea."

Charlie cringed again at that information.

He hummed, a concerned sound. One of his arms untangled from her waist, and he gently stroked a hand up and down her arm. Then, the hand continued to travel over the curve of her shoulder, until it found her jaw. "You needn't be," he murmured as he stroked her face. "You know as well as I do that it's fairly uncommon for angels to barge into homes and establishments. They often have far too many stragglers in the streets at their disposal. So long as everyone stays in doors as they know to do, we shouldn't have any problems."

"Th-" Charlie muttered restlessly. "That's not it."

"Oh? What is it, then?"

Charlie tried to find words, because maybe it would help to untangle her thoughts if she just said them out loud, especially to someone she trusted so much. However, with her mind going at what seemed like hundreds of miles per hour, she didn't even know where to start. She vaguely heard Alastor asking her to face him as his hand stilled against her cheek, but she was too distracted.

At least her thoughts seemed to be maintaining a consistent pattern, always circling back to wanting to help, wanting everyone to have the choice and chance to be redeemed. How the hell was she even supposed to accomplish all of that anyway? With another year having passed by in a blink, and with the Cleanse only hours away, and with the angels getting ready to…

Charlie's eyes widened.

The fingers on her face were a little more insistent, coaxing her. She finally let them guide her, even aiding him by rolling herself completely around to face him.

"You went extremely quiet on me just now," he commented, creases appearing between his eyebrows. The tell-tale sign of a worrying Alastor. "Tell me what's wrong."

Charlie inhaled and exhaled deeply, determinedly. "I have an idea."

\-------

Alastor liked to laugh. Not only because it went with a smile, but also because his kind of laughter left people comically annoyed and paranoid. Charlie was that one rare soul who thoroughly enjoyed his laughter. Hearing him laugh in this moment wasn't what upset Charlie. It was the way he was laughing.

He started off snickering, then he was suddenly wheezing hysterically, which eventually dove into full-on boisterous laughter, until it finally tapered off into exhausted chuckling as he wiped his thumbs against the corners of his eyes.

What an idea she had! What a thought! As he chuckled at this nonsense, he finally opened his eyes to look at Charlie…and upon seeing her frown, the room fell uncomfortably silent.

His smile nearly slipped. "You're not laughing."

Charlie shook her head. "No. Because it's not a joke."

"Ah."

After that, they were silent again, and his eyes were continuing to search her face. Then, he moved to sit up, which Charlie followed suit. They leaned against the headboard, the atmosphere getting more and more troubled as they refused to break eye contact with one another.

Charlie flexed her jaw as she observed Alastor. His smile was tense now, in disbelief, but he didn't say anything. At all. Which was not what Charlie was expecting out of him, out of this situation. She sighed, knowing she'd have to be the one to break the silence.

"You're not saying much."

"Oh," he chuckled emptily, devoid of any humor. "I have much to say, believe you me."

She nodded once, encouragingly. "I want to hear what you have to say. I _need_ to hear it."

He shook his head slowly at her, his smile shaking, as if this were hard for him. "Surely you cannot expect me to agree to this…this… _scheme_ of yours. If you can even call it that."

"You've always been supportive of my ideas, which I always appreciate," Charlie said. "But you also know when to tell me something probably isn't going to work, which I appreciate even more somehow."

"Exactly," he said, his tone clipped. "This won't work."

"So let's brainstorm together like we always do. How can we make this work?"

He shook his head stiffly. "This. Won't. Work." He paused to exhale. "Because I won't let you."

That made Charlie freeze. She stared at Alastor, unsure of how to respond to that. There'd been plenty of times that he'd opposed her ideas. This in turn made them work together to figure out a better solution. He'd always seemed to understand the drive behind her passions. Not once, though, did he ever _prevent_ her from going forward with any idea at all.

Alastor continued, waving his hand dismissively, as if that were the end of the conversation. "We will figure out another way to redeem these parasites of yours."

Charlie swallowed. "Then, what do you suggest?"

"I don't have a suggestion at this time, Charlie. All I know is that this is not the way to do it." He leaned forward to cup the side of her face, and Charlie watched as a tiny bit of his tension seemed to melt away with that little action. "I know you care very deeply about this hotel of yours, my dearest. But I care about you far more. If the roles were reversed, do you think you'd be letting _me_ do this?"

She shook her head at him, almost nudging his hand away in the process. "That's not fair. I –" She cut herself off, and narrowed her eyes at him. "That…actually doesn't matter. That logic, I mean. Because in that situation, you'd be me. And you would be doing everything in your power to help the people in your home. To use every resource that you can to help them move on to a better life."

Something in Alastor's eyes flashed. Not only was it the realization of the obvious meaning of her words, but there was also irritation at how she managed to turn that around on him. It was enough to make him at a loss for words, which Charlie took advantage of the extra silence.

"My dad was a fallen angel. He was the one I would've…begrudgingly gone to. But I don't have my parents anymore. I don't have those kinds of resources at my disposal anymore. But this. Today. This is the resource I currently have. I'm not saying it'll work, but I refuse to say that I didn't try." She then drifted her hand upward to cup his face as well. "I knew you weren't going to be thrilled about this, but…I have to try, Al."

It was their first argument as a couple, if one could even call it that. Neither of them had a temper, but their words were spoken with complete frustration towards the other.

From somewhere outside the Hotel, there was the sound of something landing in Hell. This was followed by the sickening clash of metal slicing through flesh. The panicked screams of the damned filled the air, getting louder and louder.

This year's Cleanse had begun.

\-------

They were never able reach a compromise, both of them knowing each other all too well to know that wouldn't be possible.

Alastor didn't bother to stop Charlie as she got dressed and got ready, simply wanting her to remain in his sight for as long as possible. He wordlessly followed her through the Hotel, his background static buzzing agitatedly all the while. It was still very early in the morning, so no sinners were up yet. It was just the two of them, now in the foyer, standing near the front doors.

As Charlie checked herself over to make sure she looked presentable, Alastor leaned ever casually against the opposite wall as he fidgeted with his microphone stand. It should be noted that he wasn't feeling casual in the slightest. And then there was Charlie, who looked as calm and neutral as anything.

"So," Charlie eventually asked, spreading her arms out. "How do I look?"

"You look lovely," he responded automatically, wholeheartedly. "As you always do." There was no lie there. She wore her usual attire, consisting of her black and white shoes, black pants, white shirt, and suspenders. She also put on her pink jacket that she normally wore to more formal occasions. Though in his eyes, she could be wearing nothing but burlap and she would still look like the most beautiful being he'd ever laid eyes on. Yet, he couldn't stop the sarcasm. "As lovely as one can be as they march off towards willing foolishness."

She frowned. "Al-"

"I understand why you feel you must do this. Do I have to support it? Yes. But does it mean I have to like it? No."

She sighed. "I…Yeah. I get what you're saying." She gave him a half-smile. "Thanks. Not just for supporting me, but…for your honesty as always."

He nodded. "That'll have to do, won't it," he supposed.

She nodded.

Then, Alastor's smile twisted into a half grimace. "Except…It _won't_ do…Unless you'll agree to a compromise that I just thought of?"

Charlie's eyes brightened at that. "Y-Yeah! What do you have in mind?"

Without pause, Alastor loudly clicked his fingers. His personal shadow immediately appeared. It leaned its elbow on his shoulder, wearing its ever-wicked grin as it stared at Alastor, eagerly awaiting orders.

"My shadow will go with you," he stated, practically leaving no room for argument. "Not so that it can mindlessly attack the angels, but…to give me peace of mind. Will you please agree to this?"

Charlie began shaking her head, thinking this wasn't the best idea. She and him already had a brief argument that Alastor himself couldn't come, that it could be too dangerous. It didn't matter how powerful Alastor was, the angelic weapons were meant to kill demons instantly. Charlie was hoping that she'd be at least somewhat safe given that she was only half demon. She had no doubt they could hurt her to some degree and she would have to be careful, but she wasn't about to risk Alastor's life when hers probably had a more decent chance than him.

However, now that she thought about it, his shadow was different than him in some aspects. For example, its form could phase through objects like a ghost. After a few moments, Charlie gave a reluctant nod, and she watched as Alastor's shoulders sagged ever-so-slightly in relief.

Then, he cleared his throat and addressed his shadow. "Accompany Charlie whilst she confronts these angels. You are not to attack on sight. You are to follow any orders she gives you. And if she gives you none, then you do nothing."

The shadow nodded enthusiastically, and it made to move towards Charlie. That's when a threatening, clawed hand suddenly gripped its chest. The hand once again forced the shadow to be face-to-face with the glowing, threatening, red eyes of its master.

"You may be my shadow. And there very well could be consequences should I decide to destroy you myself," Alastor continued, his voice becoming distorted with growing static. "I care not for that. She is to come back to me in one piece. That isn't negotiable…Do I make myself clear?"

The shadow was no longer smiling. Its mouth was curved downward in pure terror as it silently gulped and nodded instantly.

Just like that, the hand dropped. "Good show," Alastor praised it with a harsh smile.

As soon as the shadow was free, it launched itself away, not stopping until it was behind Charlie. Once there, it grinned and dipped its head at her respectfully. Then, it sank to the floor, shaping itself to become Charlie's interim shadow. As Charlie watched the shadow, Alastor continued speaking, now addressing her.

"My shadow is obedient, especially to you, but it is not a dog. Command it as you see fit, but at the end of the day, it has a mind of its own. And its drive to keep you safe is just as strong as mine is."

Before Charlie could look at Alastor again, she found herself being crushed against his chest. His arms were tight around her, as if he couldn't fathom letting go of her ever again.

"Please," he spoke desperately into her hair. "Please I-" He stopped himself to huff, almost sounding frustrated. Then, he exhaled, nuzzling his face against her shoulder, his voice just barely a whisper. "…I love you far too much."

Charlie's breath caught in her throat. "Y-You-"

Once more, he gathered her face in his hands, making her bewildered face look at his. "Do as you must," he said. "But, please…Come back to me. Safe and sound. Can you do that for me?"

Swallowing, Charlie nodded, unable to find any words, too blindsided by his confession to be able to say it back.

Alastor placed a lingering kiss to her lips.

He abruptly turned away and scowled at the door when they heard another blood-curdling scream from another unfortunate demon.

"I'll give you a little more than half an hour," he told her. "But do understand that if you're not back by then that I'll come looking for you."

Charlie shook her head firmly. "We already said it wasn't a good idea for you to even remotely come with me."

"It matters not," he countered. "I'll no sooner attempt to destroy every angel I see than be left wondering why you haven't returned to me." He kissed her once more. And then he looked at her with a small, fond smile. It wasn't exactly his soft smile, the one he reserved only for her, but it was close enough, and still ever affectionate. "I suppose…that if anyone could charm those vicious creatures they call angels into redeeming soles…it could be you."

Charlie smiled at him. "You really think I can do it?"

"For your well-being and my sanity…I certainly hope so."

\-------

It had been a long time since she'd willingly gone out onto the streets during a Cleanse. As soon as she closed the Hotel doors behind her, she was reminded why. Even though she didn't fear the angels, she knew to avoid all of the destruction. That no matter what she did, she couldn't stop it, not alone at least. No, for that she'd need help. And she had to directly go to some very unlikely beings to do it.

As she walked, she quickly became overwhelmed. Her ears picked up on every loud scream, shout, gurgle, and gasp for breath. Her eyes stung with the smoke from destroyed vehicles and weak buildings. Her nostrils were flooded with the nauseating stench of torn and decaying bodies.

As she walked passed every single corpse lying on the pavement, she briefly glanced at each one, just to be sure they weren't any of her residents that might have stayed out late. It was also to honor the fallen with one last acknowledgement, as most of the demons she observed she had at least had once seen in passing.

The last of her senses was her sense of touch, of which she used to hug herself and rub her hands up and down her arms. Every single part of her good-natured being was being bombarded by hellish chaos.

Her hearing picked up on the sound of another body hitting the sidewalk, and metal being yanked from its flesh. Finally, more smoked cleared until a couple of tall beings appeared in her vision.

All three of the angels looked very similar. They were grey and black all over their bodies, with the backs of their large wings appearing to be the darkest, and they had curled horns and jagged-looking halos atop their heads. The only differences between them were their faces, which they didn't show. They wore masks that appeared to be covered with a screen, as their facial expressions appeared to glitch every now and then. Their overall expressions seemed to be unchanging, though, with some smiling and some frowning.

Before she could take a determined step forward, she felt a hand clutch her shoulder. Alastor's shadow stared at her, shaking its head.

"Please stay hidden," she asked. "Not only for your sake because I don't know whether they can hurt you or not, but I also don't want them to see us as a threat."

The shadow scowled blandly at her, as if to retort, _Do they even need a reason?_

"Please," she urged.

With extreme reluctance, it once again faded away, trailing on the ground behind her.

As she continued towards the angels, she honestly had no clue what to do now that she was close. How was she supposed to address them? How was she supposed to get them to stop if they chose to attack? She certainly wasn't going to let the shadow fight for her in any capacity. Because Alastor was right. What consequence would there be for him should his own shadow be destroyed?

Her over-thinking thoughts came to a grinding halt when the angels caught sight of her, making everyone, including Charlie, stop in their tracks. They stared at her, their masks glitching and fizzling almost contemplatively as they stood absolutely still.

Charlie released her own arms and straightened her back, remembering that some would consider it rude to appear shy. No one could've prepared her for speaking with any angelic being, though.

"H-Hi," she began, unable to stop her default politeness. "My name is Charlie. And I-"

When she stuck out her hand to invite one of them to shake it, an offer of peace, they instantly surrounded her, almost smothering her with their presence. Before she could utter or stammer another word, an angel aimed a heavenly spear at her throat.

_CLANGGG!_

All was forced to halt when Alastor's shadow closed its hand like a bear trap around the shaft of the spear, stopping it from going further. Despite its form hovering apprehensively over Charlie, its hand remained unyielding.

All of the angels stared at the shadow, as if they couldn't believe the audacity.

This close, Charlie noticed that the angel holding the spear had red coloration in its eyes and mouth, unlike the other ones who had stark white in their features. From what she remembered, the ones with the red seemed to be the leaders of the Cleanses.

When the leader refused to move, the shadow grew impatient, its eyes glowing and its body hunching, ready to strike.

"J-Just wait," Charlie ordered it, making the angels look sharply at her. She tried to swallow in order to speak more clearly, but the tip of the spear shifted sharply against her throat. And she could now feel a burning sensation coming from there. She gulped again. She knew the spear could obviously damage her, but this is one hell of a way to find out it could do just as much damage as if she were just any other demon.

"Just wait," she repeated. Looking at the angel, she said in a more determined voice, "I run a hotel…f-for redemption purposes. Souls that can-"

The angel merely shook its head at this nonsense. Charlie gasped as she now felt the spear stinging painfully. In a rare occurrence, the shadow hissed angrily, the sound piercing the air like radio feedback. Alastor's shadows hardly ever vocalized.

"Just stop," Charlie exclaimed, not knowing her voice would be that loud. "Both of you, stop!"

As the angel glanced hurriedly between Charlie and the shadow, the other angels were gathering closer, trapping Charlie, ready to assist their comrade. The shadow was also glancing rapidly at Charlie, debating on whether to wait for her orders or to take over the situation. Charlie couldn't give it that chance.

Desperately, Charlie searched her mind. Not necessarily for a solution, but for a way to at least make everything stop. What could she do? They were ready to kill her without thinking, just as they always do. Just like with any other demon. How was she supposed to get that to stop?

Then, an idea coming to mind. Given that she wasn't a full demon, that meant she had knowledge that no other demon would have. And she now had a situation in which to use it.

She opened her mouth, her chin bumping against the blade of the spear. The words that flew from her mouth were rushed and desperate, and they were of a language that she hadn't spoken since when she was first taught them. " _Please! I beg of you to stop! If only for a moment_."

Everyone stopped. And they all turned their bewildered gazes to stare at her.

Charlie glanced up at Alastor's shadow, who was staring at her as well, beyond confused and awaiting her orders. She mumbled to the shadow to let go, now that things were more under control. After a stubborn staring contest that lasted many seconds, the shadow faded away once more.

The leader of this group of angels glanced around wildly, so distracted that the spear drifted away from Charlie, extremely unsure of what to make of things. " _What…did you say_ ," he eventually asked her.

Charlie tried to clear her throat as she attempted to confidently straighten her spine. " _I said, if you would please stop_ -"

"Yes, I heard all of that," he snapped at her, no longer in that language. "Where on earth did you learn to speak one of the angelic languages?"

Charlie bit her lip, keeping silent, not finding the explanation relevant or important to her, or this situation.

He leaned forward, and Charlie could sense he was about to demand he tell her.

"My name is Charlie," she began quickly. "I run a – My home...It's a hotel that redeems sinners. To eventually send them to heaven. Or…That's the goal, at least. And a lot of them, almost all of them, are doing well. So well! They really have a chance, in my opinion." She paused. "Would you please consider giving them that chance?"

Slowly, the angel straightened up so he was no longer towering over her. The other angels stepped back, giving them room while talking quietly and contemplatively amongst each other. Alastor's shadow, which had been pacing restlessly behind Charlie finally settled into just being her shadow again.

The leader fidgeted with the spear, unsure of what to make of this. And then he said, "What makes you think we want to redeem souls?"


	29. Support

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * I sincerely apologize for the amount of grammatical and technical errors in the last chapter. I've been fixing them as I see them. Hopefully I got them all.

"W…What?"

Charlie didn't actually know when she had uttered this word. The angel's question continued to bombard her thoughts, over and over, like a bell toll beating mockingly against her brain. It drowned out everything else. She no longer heard the chaos of the Cleanse, or even the other angels dispersing to continue their extermination. She couldn't even properly focus on their leader to talk to him or question him.

The angel slowly shook his head at her with an insufferable sigh. "We are not interested in redeemed souls," he said, his tone almost sounding bored.

Some broken words croaked in Charlie's throat as disbelief continued to repeatedly slam into her. "I – I don't…"

One of the other angels approached and placed his hand on the leader's shoulder. "We should carry on," he told him casually. He spared Charlie a single glance. "Destroy this one and let us move on with our day."

The leader stared at Charlie as he gripped his spear, but he didn't move forward.

"Sir," the angel asked.

"Do you notice how she does not look like a normal demon," the leader mused. "It is quite fascinating."

"Hmm, I suppose so…" was the other angel's disinterested response. "Well, it is your call, as you know," he sighed as he walked away. "You do as you wish. We will meet you somewhere further into the city."

For a few more seconds, the leader continued to stare curiously at Charlie, no longer holding the spear so tightly. Then, abruptly, he turned on his heel and made to join the others.

For some reason, that made Charlie snap out of it. Just like that, her senses were flooded again with the sounds, smells, and sights of Hell being destroyed around her. Every single body that she heard dropping to the ground got louder and louder, as if someone was slowly turning the volume up.

It was loud. So loud! She couldn't lower the volume. She couldn't make it stop.

She couldn't help.

Her goal, from the very beginning, was to fix this. To end all of the suffering, terror, and needless killing within Hell each year. To give everyone a second chance if they wanted it. And here she was, watching and listening to everything raging on around her, without her. It was as if the angels couldn't even be bothered by her presence now, let alone her…unsuccessful, fruitless, laughable idea.

She once again wrapped her arms around herself, her teeth clenching painfully together as she willed the tears not to fall. She swiveled her head around, almost feeling lifeless – helpless – as she looked in every disorienting direction, at every life that was meeting its ruthless end at the hands of these heavenly beings.

Charlie watched the leader going to join his comrades, and she felt her own fingernails digging sharply into the skin of her upper arms, as if doing so would help her feel the pain of the dying souls around. God, she was tired of it all. She was tired of the death and the chaos. She hated that it got worse with every passing year. She hated that not one of her passionate ideas ever came to fruition.

She hated that no one wanted to help.

Before the leader got out of sight, she also thought that she couldn't stand that the angels themselves didn't want to help. She released her arms.

…She couldn't accept that.

Eyes narrowed, she sprinted after the angel. In quick, long, purposefully strides that made her joints protest, she didn't stop, not until she cut off the angel's path and stopped him.

The leader dropped his spear in surprise as he stared down at her, in complete shock. "I…spared you," he responded after a few seconds, his hands clenched at his sides. "You have some nerve-"

"You need to hear me out," Charlie interrupted. "I…I know it's a crazy idea. God, it's been a crazy idea from start to finish! But I don't get it! Why wouldn't you want to…" She buried her face in her hands, exhaling harshly, trying to keep herself composed. When she lifted her head, she frowned sternly at him. "The residents in my hotel…They're not perfect, and maybe they still have a long way to go. I can accept that. But…But what I cannot accept is you just-just…brushing them off like that!"

The leader's hands were still clenched, but there was a break in his demeanor. An ever-so-slight tilt of the head.

"They've been working hard," she continued stubbornly, not caring if a couple frustrated tears fell. "Not only working hard for themselves, but for each other, too. The progress they've all made has been small, and they all go at their own pace, but it's progress! And you…you need to see that."

Charlie gestured to their surroundings. "We don't want this every year. And I'm willing to bet anything that you guys don't want it either."

The leader continued to scrutinize her, and Charlie wondered what his facial expressions were, what emotions he might've been giving away behind his face mask.

Finally, and in an oddly patient tone, he said, "We do not need a redemption establishment."

"But it could help with the overpopulation!"

"Last I checked, that's what we have these annual Cleanses for." He lifted his gaze above her shoulder, towards his fellow angels. "Now, I suggest you get inside somewhere before you become another fatality."

Before he could brush past her, Charlie once again stepped in his path. "At least visit the Hotel," she suggested swiftly. "It doesn't have to be today. It could be a day less…violent than this, and when nobody is defensive or up in arms."

With a huff, now losing patience, he physically pushed her aside, making her stumble.

But Charlie wouldn't stop. "If you could just meet them for yourself-"

The leader spun around and bent down until he was inches from her face. "We are _not_ interested in this folly of an idea. These sinners are here for a reason. If we wanted to redeem souls, we would do so ourselves. We have far too much going on up in Heaven as it is, and we do not have time for it. Now, if you'll be so kind as to get out of my sight. You are pushing your-"

"Well, wait," Charlie interrupted, her brows coming together. "What's going on in Heaven?"

The leader immediately straightened up, as if her words had physically caused him to do so. He stood there rigidly, not saying a word for the longest time. Charlie didn't know why he responded like this, but she did know that it was something that she shouldn't have asked.

Finally, the leader shook his head, as if to clear a daze. "That is…none of your concern. It is not the business of a demon." He swiped an exasperated – maybe even tired – hand over his face, jostling his mask. Charlie nearly caught a glimpse of his face before it fell back into place. That's when she noticed his head was now lifted in the direction of the Hotel.

"That eyesore in the distance," he mused curiously. "I take it that's yours."

She sighed. "Yes. That's my hotel."

He scratched his chin, keeping his gaze towards the Hotel. Even from that great of a distance, he analyzed it as if he were directly in front of it. He was also muttering under his breath. Charlie could only make out snippets of what he was saying.

"Yes. Hmm…Yes…I suppose you do have some souls…that could…Quite possibly…" Then, he gave a long sigh as he acknowledged Charlie once more. "You've worked long and hard to make this work, it seems."

Charlie nodded once, resolutely. "Yes. Not just me, though. They've _all_ worked hard."

"It shows," he nodded. "I'll admit to that…It shows." He glanced at the Hotel again. "And your goal is to redeem these lost and wayward souls."

"Yes. Will you please consider giving them that chance?"

He shook his head at her. "I cannot," he said, and Charlie could've sworn she heard an apology in his tone. "Your work is admirable and just, but it is not what we are looking for." He sighed. "A shame. All that work. All for naught."

An explosion rang out behind him. Both he and Charlie looked at the cluster of angels, who were all picking themselves off the ground after a dilapidated building nearly collapsed on them.

"Clumsy oafs," the leader grumbled. That's when he looked at Charlie again, with his head tilted thoughtfully once more. "Hmm. Well, unfortunately, I cannot do anything for this redemption proposal of yours. However, I fear I also cannot let your fine work go to waste." He jabbed a thumb in the direction of the destroyed building. "As you know, we may not do it often, but we do have to enter buildings on occasion to…carry out our work."

As he gave one final look towards the Hotel, he said, "I will communicate to my brethren not to touch your hotel. I don't know if I can convince them, but I will try. Who knows? Perhaps someday I can even convince them to specifically leave your residents alone should they find themselves outside during the Cleanse. But that is long shot."

Charlie's shoulders sagged as she stared at the ground.

"It is not enough for you," the leader stated.

She shook her head in response.

He sighed. "I am afraid it will have to be."

Frustrated, and feeling defeated, Charlie all but scratched the tears away from her face. When she looked up, she could see through her bleary eyes that the leader was gone.

Everything was quiet once more, as Charlie was now left alone with her own thoughts. Mechanically, she walked back to the Hotel, staring at the ground, not even remotely in a rush. Once again, she only vaguely observed how everything moved around her, as if in a fog, or some twisted nightmare that left her helpless to do anything but observe.

The odd demon ruthlessly shoved her out of the way to dodge an oncoming attack. Debris occasionally was kicked up into her face. And the angels…They bustled around her, avoiding her completely. Had the leader said something to them already? Or did they sense that she wasn't a normal demon? Or perhaps they sensed that she wasn't necessarily afraid of them? Even Alastor's shadow didn't currently feel threatened. On their way back to the Hotel, not once did it make an appearance.

Soon, the lights of her hotel came into view, making her look up. So far, thankfully, it was still standing amongst it all. She could also see the shadows that guarded the Hotel, nearly all of them making a rare consistent appearance as they paced back and forth in front of it. When they caught sight of her, they grinned, seemed to relax, and flitted aside to allow her to pass.

Charlie once again looked at the ground, more tears falling. She didn't want to feel welcomed. She didn't want to feel like she'd done something good.

She vaguely caught sight of the shadows hurriedly gesturing for her to quickly enter the Hotel, all of them keeping a lookout for any angels. Charlie snorted. It was probably baffling to them to see her take her time, to see that she wasn't afraid of the current events.

Charlie had a third theory as to why she wasn't afraid of the angels. Her enthusiasm to help those that needed it, to give her residents the resources for a second chance, the motivation to not let anyone down, including herself…

The need to not be a failure doesn't leave much room for fear.

\-------

Before her hands even touched the door handles, the doors were already swinging open. An arm hooked itself around her waist and pulled her inside the low light of the foyer as the doors slammed shut behind her. She was being all but crushed against a familiar chest.

"Charlie," he whispered in utter, total relief. "…Thank goodness." She felt him pull back some, but just enough to remove his face from her hair. "I tried to give you as much time as possible, especially after I felt my shadow mysteriously calm down. But _by god_ I was so close to all but ripping down these doors to go and find you."

Charlie simply stood there, most of her face still pressed against his chest, her hands clenched at her sides despite wanting to hold onto him for dear life.

Alastor took note of her obvious silence. As he tried to get a better look at her face, he quipped, "Niffty would've had a field day cleaning up that kind of mess, wouldn't you say, my dearest?"

Charlie wanted to at least manage a fake chuckle or even a snort, but all she managed to do was gulp dryly.

Concern filling him far too quickly for his liking, he gripped her shoulders to fully look at her. "What is it?" He happened to ask this question just as his eyes fell upon on a small, angry, red blemish on her throat. He gently stroked his thumb over the burn mark, swiping away a bit of dried blood in the process. That made his own blood boil, and he had to force his radio static not to rise in volume.

"Does this hurt," Alastor asked. He could've laughed, for his shadow immediately fled the scene upon hearing this question, with its metaphorical tail between its legs. He shook his head, not feeling humor in the slightest. He would deal with his shadow later, if he was in a vindictive mood, that is.

Charlie shook her head at him.

"Then, what is it," he asked hastily. He had seen Charlie's many moods over the last year. Sorrow, pain, happiness, liveliness, but not numb. No, actually. Numb was too generous of a word.

She looked drained. Completely, horribly drained. And he couldn't stand it.

Charlie inhaled shakily. Blindly, she reached her hand behind her, feeling for the wall, to have something to lean against. God knows she didn't have much else left with the support of her own passion now tossed mercilessly out the window. Support was an odd thing, though, because everyone had their own definition on what could be considered supportive.

Alastor's arms immediately went around her torso again. He didn't want her to drift away on him, now that he was getting some sort of response from her.

When Charlie finally looked up at him, her eyes wet and red, she ended the silence.

"You were right all along, Al…No one's getting redeemed."

As she told Alastor what had happened between her and one of the lead angels, she struggled to look him in the eyes. This made him firmly, but gently, hold her face so she couldn't look away. For some reason, he feared she would get off track or stop altogether if he didn't do so.

Her voice was frighteningly neutral in the beginning, speeding through each little detail monotonously, but detailed nonetheless. She left nothing out. He waited for it, though. He might not be good at empathy, but Charlie was. Emotional by nature, she couldn't maintain this for very long. He didn't encourage nor discourage her as she sped to the inevitable, hoping that it's what she might need.

She was now explaining how persistent she was, about how she couldn't let that infuriating angel walk away. Her voice was quivering now, stuttering over her words as tears ran freely down her cheeks. And once she was done explaining that the angel would at least want the Hotel to be spared each year…Well, he obviously hadn't been with her at the time, and he didn't particularly know why this was so pivotal for her, but it finally happened.

Choking on a final word, Charlie gripped the front of his suit and cried against him. Though her body jolted sharply with every new rush of tears, she was silent, as if she'd already done enough talking, enough vocalizing of all her frustrations.

Alastor stood there, one of his arms still around her waist, with his other hand pressed against the back of her neck to keep her against him. He didn't say a word. He didn't do anything to soothe her. Now that he'd listen to every hopeless word she'd said, what else could he do except let her lean on him as much as she needed?

Minutes later, she was sagging, pressing all of her weight lifelessly against him as every last shred of emotion seemed to be wrung out of her.

Well, now.

That just won't do.

"So," Alastor exclaimed, making Charlie flinch at the unexpected enthusiasm. "Back to business as usual?"

Back to…

What?

Charlie stepped back until she was standing upright. Well, more like stumbled, in all honesty. But that didn't bother her. No, what was extremely baffling to her was Alastor's face. He wore his usual exuberant smile, no concern whatsoever, as if her tears weren't currently stained on his suit.

Charlie gaped at him. "What? Di-Didn't you hear what I said? All of that? This is it. There is no redemption. For anyone!" She wanted to hang her head, to not have to look at him, but she couldn't for some reason. "I…failed."

Alastor tilted his head. "How so?"

Beyond confused, beyond exasperated, Charlie gestured wildly with her hands towards the door, towards themselves, and yet towards nothing in particular. "Didn't you hear what I just said?!"

He laughed once. "And you're going to let such pompous creatures get to you? Have more dignity than that."

She shook her head with a growl. "It's not about dignity, Al. We can't get anyone's souls redeemed. This hotel is useless! I fa-"

"Tell that to all of the sinners who willingly live here, then."

Charlie stared at him, her mouth set in a hard line, but…she didn't have a response for that.

"You've given them a fine and safe place to stay."

"They're not getting redeemed, though," she countered.

"Maybe, maybe not," he mused. "That would be an interesting matter of perspective. But let's not digress." 

He calmly gestured to the foyer and its walls, walls of which that didn't have a lot of photos hanging from them quite yet. But they were good photos, paintings, and pictures nonetheless. "Your residents are still living their lives. Peacefully, which not a lot of demons can say that. And to the fullest that they can. It may not be Heaven by any means, but I'd say it's the closest thing they have down here in this damned pit."

He didn't have to hold her face, because he had all of her attention. Her eyes were wide and completely focused on his words, absorbing them as she gradually let herself relax. Still, he cupped her face with both of his hands anyway.

"We didn't need the angels for all of that before, and we certainly don't need them now." He brushed some hair away from her eyes, and he was all too happy to see the sadness gone from them. "We don't need them."

Charlie dipped her head one last time. And when she looked up at him again, it was with a watery exhausted half-smile that she hoped silently conveyed to him just how much she needed to hear those words.

Charlie slowly captured his lips, to which he responded immediately to. On her end, she felt a little weak, but that made Alastor all the more lively. He encouraged her to deepen it by gently taking her arms and personally placing them around his neck. After many seconds, she did so, holding onto him with whatever strength she lad left from this day.

That night, they laid in bed, holding each other, ready for sleep to take them. Charlie was downright exhausted, understandably so, and also very quiet again. When Alastor was done tending to the small wound on her throat, he noticed this. It wasn't an emotional silence like it was in the foyer, but a contemplative one, one that spoke volumes without speech being involved at all.

He just stroked her face, assuming that she was simply going over today's events. She surprised him when she suddenly said, "I have an idea."


	30. Anew Year

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * I referenced _The Breakfast Club_. I don't own _The Breakfast Club_.

Charlie was surprised. So pleasantly surprised.

It was difficult to get every single resident of the Hotel in one place. Everyone's schedules were usually so busy and often erratic. It was the Cleanse that brought this on. Not a lot of sinners resumed their usual activities until a few days after each Cleanse was over and done with. Most would joke and say that it was Hell's vacation time. There was no fooling each other, though. Everyone knew it was actually to physically and mentally recuperate from the insanity.

Given that no one was going anywhere anytime soon, Charlie supposed that they probably gathered in the living room because they had nothing better to do with their time. Everyone was talking amongst each other as Charlie collected her thoughts.

This was what made her nervous. Not angels, but this. Standing in front of a large crowd.

She didn't have stage fright whatsoever, but what made her nervous was just the people in general. Anytime she had ever stood in front of anyone to announce anything, it backfired on her. It always did. And she knew, or at least anticipated, that this would be no different. Still, this needed to happen. She couldn't lie to her residents or put anything off. They deserved that much.

She glanced around for Alastor, hoping to get a small bit of silent reassurance from him, but she didn't get any. He was sitting off to the side, in the front row of seats, with all of his focus on adjusting something on his microphone stand. She exhaled anxiously. Well, she could at least hear a little tune that he was humming along to, and hearing it helped for some reason. Only a little, though, but it was better than nothing.

She decided it was now time, and she cleared her throat. Everyone stopped to give her their attention, including Alastor. His microphone stand had disappeared, as if he'd never had it in the first place.

"H-Hi, everyone," she stammered slightly, and she cleared her throat once more. "I'm glad all of you are okay. This year's Cleanse had a…lot more destruction than we all anticipated. If anyone has been injured or anything, you can always go to the…" Charlie then paused to rub her fingers over her eyes. "Why didn't I think of adding an infirmary to the Hotel, yet," she asked herself aloud.

"I got it," Niffty hollered from within the crowd, followed by the rasping of a pencil against paper. She'd all but begged to be the note-taker for this large meeting, always having the need to keep things organized.

"Thanks," Charlie said to her as she looked up at everyone again. "So, uh, I gathered all of you here right now to make sure everyone was accounted for, and…also…" 

She took a deep, uncertain breath. "No one is getting redeemed."

…And their reaction was exactly what Charlie had anticipated.

The entire room was as silent as a grave, with only the sound of a pencil dropping to the floor to briefly break it. Charlie felt tears well up as she took in a couple of residents' astonished faces.

Niffty was frozen to her chair.

Sanderson and Steel were both scowling at the floor.

Husk was glaring at a wall.

Angel Dust had his arms wrapped around himself with pure tension and unease.

The yoga instructor looked distraught.

Their new bartender was silently chugging a beer bottle as if it were oxygen.

And, _god_ , Charlie could go on and on in detail about all of the others, too. She knew they were disappointed in her, and it proved once and for all that this really would never have worked, and that she definitely had let everyone down.

… Although, upon further inspection, was that really the case? Yes, they weren't happy with what she'd just said, but with the way most of them stayed focused on her, as if waiting for something else, they didn't necessarily seem directly upset with her, per se. Charlie thought about how she'd worded everything, and she came to a conclusion.

They weren't disappointed in her.

They were disappointed that they weren't getting redeemed.

How?...How did a thought such as that make her feel more confident? As if a weight was slowly beginning to lift off of her? It was probably just her over-thinking brain getting the best of her. She could continue staring at their dejected faces all day and could even begin to once again spiral into a pit of hopelessness. But, no!

That's not what this meeting was about.

"I tried," Charlie said after many moments of uncertain silence. "I really did. I tried to tell the angels what we do here, that this place is worth every bit of time and energy-"

"What angels," one of the residents asked.

"Oh. The ones from the Cleanse. A couple of them-"

"You went out into the streets during the most fucked-up time of the year? Just to get our asses redeemed?" Another asked loudly.

"Well," she breathed. "…Yeah."

"Jesus Christ, you got some balls!"

This caused quite a few of them to unexpectedly chuckle, including Charlie, especially when she noticed Alastor's eyes roll at that uncouth statement.

"Well, uh, anyway," Charlie said, now smiling slightly, and she tried not to let it falter as she continued. "As I was saying. The angels…I couldn't convince them. They said they had too much going on, or something. So…No. No one's getting redeemed."

She looked at everyone, all of her employees and residents, most of which that had stuck with her for many weeks and months now, doing everything to better themselves and the Hotel itself. And she refused to let it all go to waste.

"But…That made me think of something else," she explained. "Because we're still here. Just because those angels don't want anything to do with this place doesn't mean that we shouldn't. Even though the Hotel can't be used for redemption purposes, that doesn't mean I want to give up on it." Her smile widened. "Just like how all of you haven't given up. That…That goes a long way for me. You have no idea."

She cleared her throat and straightened up confidently, no longer feeling uneasy or saddened. "I kept asking myself…What else could this place be for? What else could people here in Hell want?" She chuckled slightly, good-naturedly. "I'm…Well, I'm not as gullible as the majority of you might think. I'm well aware most of you originally joined the Hotel for free room and board."

Husk was suddenly clearing his throat. "Angel Dust," he coughed loudly into his fist.

"Man, sh-shut up," Angel retorted, but unable to hide the chuckling in his voice, especially now that nearly everyone was snickering and smirking along with them.

"And why wouldn't you all want that," Charlie continued. "We all know that a safe place to stay in Hell is hard to come back. This hotel wasn't just for sinners to get redeemed, but to also provide them a safe place to live while doing so.

"So…I've been thinking," she said. "Even after each Cleanse is over and done with, that still doesn't make Hell a safe place. There are still plenty of pitfalls and a lot chaos that happens all year round. But…not here. This place has, for the most part, been free of all that, as much as it can be. And I want it to continue that way.

"Just because you all aren't getting redeemed doesn't mean you no longer have a home here. Well, that's what I intend for this place to be now. Hell has never had neutral ground before. A safe house, if you will. But now it does, for anyone who needs or wants it. It could be temporary. It could be permanent. A safe place to stay for whoever wants it, so long as they are willing to respect it and each other.

"So, yeah," Charlie concluded. "A safe place. A safe house. Er, safe hotel, I guess you could say." She chuckled slightly. "So. What do you all think?"

Charlie couldn't anticipate what all of their reactions would be, but she was hopeful. That hopefulness didn't always pay off with most of her passionate ideas, but she'd be damned if she were to stop trying.

It was a day like this that made her proud of herself that she never stopped trying.

All of the Hotel's residents looked at her calmly, most with unabashed smiles on their faces that made them seem hopeful, too. A couple of them definitely scoffed, and Charlie knew that some of them might not like this kind of change, but for the most part…

Everyone seemed willing to try it.

And that was more than enough for her. More than she could have hoped for.

\-------

Little by little, they all dispersed from the living room. Most of them took their time, flagging down Charlie to talk to her about her speech, but mostly to just touch base with her.

They asked her casual questions, like if certain schedules could be tweaked, when the bar was going to get different liquor, if Husk was going to continue his sessions, if Sanderson could give them gardening lessons, and on and on. It was to a point where the questions were no longer even related to her speech. 

It was as if Charlie had never changed anything.

The positive energy she felt from all of them was infinitely appreciated. At some point, the questions and conversations trickled to an end. One of the few remaining residents still in the living room was Niffty. She handed the pencil and paper to Charlie.

"There wasn't much to write down, except for the infirmary part," she said. "Ooh, wait, I lied! I actually wrote down something in case I forgot. Go up to the fifth floor and tell me what you think of the window."

Charlie's brows scrunched. "Which window?"

"The one Sanderson and Steel broke."

She blinked in confusion. "But…that was months ago. And didn't you fix it already?"

"Yeah, but I didn't like it. Just plain, clear, boring, stupid old glass. Stained glass is so much prettier. Anyway, lemme know what you think of it." On that note, she left. So, Niffty had apparently changed the window. Charlie couldn't wait to see it.

She hadn't noticed that Alastor had been standing right next to her nearly the whole time until his arm came around her torso. She jumped slightly, but then relaxed upon seeing him. And her heart began doing such wonderful somersaults. He was looking at her with that soft smile of his, beaming almost proudly at her.

She stood on her tiptoes and wound her arms around his neck, ready to tell him something, but then Angel Dust came into view. Aside from her and Alastor, he was the last to leave, having been trying to plan the next movie night, and placing the chosen selection next to the projector. It looks like the _The Breakfast Club_ was next.

Before he could leave the room, Charlie told him with a friendly grin, "Remember a few months back when I told you that you and Fat Nuggets still have a home here?"

Angel laughed loudly at her. "Damn straight we do! Psh! I wasn't worried for a second. Can't get rid of me that easily, or any of us from the looks of it." Before he closed the doors, he gave one last comment. "Oh, and congratulations! Since none of us wayward souls are getting carted off to Heaven, it looks like you're forever stuck with us, blondie." He gave a final laugh, but not a mocking one. It almost sounded fond. A second later, the doors swung shut behind him.

"Yeah," she exhaled, her smile having yet to leave her face. "I guess I am."

"That all went rather well, I'd say," Alastor said.

"It did," she said, idly stroking her thumb against the back of his neck, her arms having yet to let go of him. "And that's all because of you. Well…All of the residents of the Hotel, but especially you."

He tilted his head. "Oh? How so?"

"Everything you said last night after I got back to the Hotel," she explained. "I don't know why, but it all made sense. It made so many things click into place. And you made it sound so effortless, too. Even though you never thought or cared if this hotel was going to work in the first place."

He chuckled. "Believe me, my dear, when I say that it wasn't without effort. I certainly wouldn't have guessed that your new goal would become of it." He tucked some stray hair behind her ear. "My dearest Charlie. I will never stop telling you what you need to hear." His grin turned playful. "Hopefully that's not more than what you bargained for."

Her smile was wide as her shoulders shook with laughter. Seeing her slowly but finally returning to a more positive mindset, he couldn't resist bending down to steal a sweet kiss from her, to which she responded without hesitation.

"Al," she murmured against his lips.

"Hmm?"

She pulled back a little. "I love you, too." 

She couldn't help but giggle a little when he froze up at her words, only for that giggling to be blissfully smothered by newly fervent and passionate kisses from him.

\-------

Many months ago, when Steel had broken all of Baxter's beakers, Niffty had dutifully cleaned up all of the glass. Those that knew about her keeping the larger shards instead of throwing them away thought it was extremely creepy. What they did not know was the project she'd began working on.

Ever motivated to fix something or for things to look nice in general, she was driven to replace that boring fifth floor window with something else. Somehow, she had managed to individually stain each broken piece of glass.

Every time Charlie had cried this past year, it wasn't often that they were tears of happiness. Now, as she looked at the colors in front of her, she welcomed these kinds of tears. At first, Charlie had just looked at it with amusement. It was an adorable mesh of colors, all pieced together with no real pattern to it. Then, she realized just how wrong she was.

Yellow for her, red for Alastor, black for Husk, white for Vaggie, pink for Niffty, and an even lighter pink for Angel Dust.

All colors that represented her and her friends.

The original six residents of the Hotel.

Charlie sniffled, swiping some of the tears away as her smile grew ever wider.

Obviously, it was impossible for Niffty to have added every single resident of the Hotel to the mosaic. And given when the glass had been cleaned up, Niffty probably hadn't been anticipating more residents or the current ones at the time to stick.

That was okay, Charlie told herself as she stood up. Honestly, that's what the pictures and empty frames in the Hotel entryway were for, to make everyone feel included and welcomed. And she hoped that there would be more and more pictures to come. And who knows, maybe Niffty would feel creative enough to make more stained glass art of all of the other residents.

Charlie could have sat there all day to continue admiring it. Unfortunately - yet not unfortunate at all - the day wasn't over yet and she needed to get back to her duties as hotel owner. As she walked the halls, as she thought about the mosaic, and as she listened to the usual bustling sounds of her lively, fantastic Hotel, she felt more at home than ever. And she couldn't wait to see what their future was going to be like.

Obviously, they were still awaiting that dreaded news report from 666 News. And Charlie knew that Killjoy would more than likely try to demand another interview now that no one in the Hazbin Hotel was getting redeemed. None of that mattered to her, though.

Rosie was to show up any day now with her flowers, and to provide financial guidance.

Her employees went about their jobs, business as usual.

Most of the residents in the Hotel continued to stay. And more residents came in from word of mouth as a result.

They would all be okay. Every one of them.

This was Charlie's family, and it was an interesting family to have indeed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **If you have the time, please read this** :
> 
> * Exhales *
> 
> Well, I just wanted to say a few things to conclude this. Thank you all so much for the support you've given my story. I always love hearing everyone's thoughts, opinions, and theories. I thoroughly enjoyed writing it, to a point where I reread it on a weekly basis. I don't know if that sounds humble enough or not, lol.
> 
> It's funny, really. This story wasn't meant to be a chapter story. It was supposed to be a series of interconnecting one-shots leading up to an eventual romance. It was after the third chapter that I realized it wasn't going to work like that, lol.
> 
> I hope you guys were satisfied with the ending. And yes, it does leave room for a possible sequel. There were many things in this story that I hadn't been able to go over quite yet. And of course there were a few things that I purposefully left vague for a variety of reasons. However, I don't have the details I need to make that sequel. It's always a possibility it could happen, and it may even result in an additional epilogue for this story, but as of right now I don't have one seriously planned.
> 
> The one thing I hoped above all else, though, was that I did all of these characters justice. This story was so character driven that I tried to make sure that I respected these characters every step of the way. I hope I accomplished that.
> 
> Once again thank you all. I did not expect this story to get as much attention as it did and I appreciate every single kudos, comments, hits, and bookmarks.
> 
> Just one last thing, please. If you decide to leave a comment, please give a shout out to my editor if you can. He's helped me with nearly all of this story. He has such a busy schedule and he hardly ever has a whole lot of free time, and he still somehow manages to help me with my crazy stories.
> 
> One last time, thank you to all of you.


End file.
